Whatever is Left of Me
by ViolaOphelia
Summary: When Edward returns to Bella, he does not realise that a few hours earlier she nearly drowned. He finds that the girl he came back to is very much altered from the girl he left behind, and that it takes more than saying sorry to rebuild their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

My first attempt at Twilight FanFiction! I'd love to hear your opinions, so please review. Just to let you know, I've already posted the first few chapters of this story on Twilighted, so future updates will initially come very fast.

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The world as I knew it came crashing down when I saw her face. Panic clutched my chest and I found myself unable to move. Were it not for the faint fluttering of her heart, the rasping breaths that issued from her lungs, I would have thought her dead and drowned.

Of course, her skin had always been rather pale, but now her face was ghastly white under a greyish hue, and her lips - the colour of which I remembered as a lovely mixture of red and pink tones - were a horrifying shade of blue. Though she still smelled absolutely enticing, her beautiful brown eyes were now blank and did not move but were fixed on the ceiling right above her. Indeed, only her heartbeats and her uneven breaths indicated that this girl on the bed had not yet departed from this world; everything else about her looked dead. I gasped with pain as the realization of what my departure had done to her hit me square in the chest. _I had killed her_.

She must have heard me, because suddenly her eyes found mine and after seven months of yearning I lost myself in their depths again. I couldn't move a muscle, and despite her rather strange position on her bed she made no sign of wanting to move either. Her eyes stayed fixed on my face. How could this be the girl I had foolishly left all those months ago? To think I did it to protect her made it obvious that I had never been more wrong. Gone were my faulty reasons for abandoning her, my lies about never having loved her; only her pain, and my guilt, were left.

She was thin, so much thinner than before. The face that stared back at me didn't belong to the Bella I had known; _my_ Bella. Her cheekbones protruded beneath her transparent skin and deep, dark hollows had formed underneath her eyes. I stood staring at her for nearly two minutes and would have done so for a much more extended period of time, had she not suddenly shivered. The movement wouldn't have been discernible by human eyes, but it drew my attention to the rest of her body as it shook slightly on the mattress. The sheets on her bed were wrapped haphazardly around her legs and the shirt she was wearing looked damp, even wet.

My eyes found hers again, and pain swelled up inside me as I saw the immense amounts of devastation and hurt trapped in them. It was unbearable for me to know that I had caused her misery. She shivered again, and this time she was the one to look away first. As she closed her eyes, a cold gust of wind made the curtains around her open window flutter, causing my muscles to finally unlock themselves and stride towards it. But in the few seconds it took me to cross her room, her heart rate accelerated dramatically and her breathing stocked. I was already at the window when she said a single word that made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Don't."

Her voice was no more than a raspy whisper, a harsh contrast with the voice I remembered as being hers in happier times. I turned around and raised my hands, palms forward. A single tear trickled over her cheek as she looked at me. She didn't want me to close her window? Why?

"Don't go," she croaked.

I understood, and a part of me died inside. She thought I was leaving her again. She didn't realise that, now that I had seen her like this, I wouldn't have been able to go, even if she didn't want me to be with her. I needed to make her understand I couldn't leave her again, that I would stay with her forever if I could only fix this.

"Bella, I won't," I whispered. "Please understand, I just want to close the window. Is that okay?"

She didn't answer me, but as I studied her face for any sign of approval I thought I could see the ghost of a smile touching her lips. In the absence of a verbal answer, I decided that her small smile would do too, and I turned again to close the window. The world behind the glass pane was hidden in shrouds of mist; an ensemble of grey asphalt, dark earth and damp trees. The only colour in the street came from the bright red truck parked on the driveway in front of the house. Bella's truck, I thought sadly.

She was shivering constantly now, I could see that in the reflection of the glass. The slight haze in my brain that was brought on by seeing Bella in this state made way for sheer panic; what in the world had happened to her? She was freezing, her clothes and her hair looked wet and she hadn't moved at all since I'd entered her room. Was she hurt? Had somebody hurt her?

"Bella, are you hurt?"

A frown crossed her features. She looked at me imploringly, as if she couldn't understand the question. I carefully sat down beside her on the edge of her bed - making sure not to move too fast and frighten her in the process - and tried again.

"Have you been hurt?"

She replied almost immediately.

"Yeah."

Her tone was slightly patronising, as if she was explaining a very simple concept to a three-year-old. I reached out for her so I could see where exactly she was hurt, but as soon as my hands touched her bedcovers, she shrank back. Her fear stabbed me, but I pushed those feelings back for the moment. Leaning away from her, I raised my hands again, palms forward, and gave another try .

"Bella, where are you hurt? Please, tell me."

Again, she didn't answer but continued to stare at me, the small 'v' between her eyebrows back in place. I was growing more frustrated by the minute; her silence unnerved me. My fear for her became ever more pronounced inside me as I struggled to keep a clear head. _Call Carlisle right now_, I mentally sneered at myself. Never taking my eyes of her, I took my phone out of my jacket and dialled his number.

He answered after two rings, and greeted me cordially with a hint of surprise hidden beneath the clear, deep tones of his voice. During his greetings, her face turned, unbelievably, even bluer and I was unable to answer my father's inquiries. The colour of her face was distracting, and I remembered the first thought I had had when I saw her today. I had thought her _dead and drowned_, merely because that conclusion fitted her appearance, but what if that was what had really happened? _Had_ she nearly drowned today?

I froze, phone held in mid-air, my eyes raking over her body once more and seeing the evidence they had until now so ignorantly overlooked. Damp hair, wet clothes, ashen skin, blue lips. Her raspy breaths sounded louder in my ears and her wonderful floral scent was clouded by the smell of salt. I had found my voice again and was speaking fast into the phone when she asked me a question that caused me to halt my conversation with Carlisle once more.

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A short first chapter, but future ones will be longer. Next up, Bella's POV.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you all for reading! As I've said previously, I've already posted the first few chapters of this story on Twilighted, so I'll post them all at once here to keep everything up to date ;-) Please let me know what you think?

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Ooh, this one was very, very good. In fact, the best yet, I'd say...

I had heard his voice on numerous occasions, enjoyed his velvet growls as he reprimanded me for willingly putting myself in danger. I had even seen him, a bright light in the dark waters as I'd drowned this morning, and had actually thought my subconscious couldn't have stored away his perfect features in more perfect detail. Yet here he stood, in my bedroom, not five feet away from me, the Greek god of my past and imagination, and he was more beautiful than memory could ever have served.

So as far as hallucinations go, I had seemingly won the grand jackpot, the all-inclusive five-star-hotel-trip to whatever exotic location you could possibly think of. Either that, or I'd finally gone completely and utterly mad.

It was probably the latter.

Of course, his appearance hurt me much more than his absence. Last time I had seen him like this, as real as he'd ever get, he had told me he didn't love me. That I wasn't good enough for him or his family. Seeing the love of your life again after he told you that you were no more than a distraction just had to be painful, hadn't it? In my limited experience of love and loss, I thought it was bound to be. Even if he only came back as a figment of my imagination.

Nevertheless, to see him again brought me back from the numb state I had existed in for the last seven months, and I liked it. I was suddenly able to feel more than the gaping hole in my chest. I felt reverence for his beauty, delight in his sudden reappearance, and wonder as to why I could see him now while I was lying in my bed, relatively safe in comparison to my latest endeavours. I felt pain, but also some form of happiness. He was with me again.

I stared into his eyes, afraid to move and lose him once more. Saying goodbye again would be the end of me now, no doubt. Exhaustion kept me silent and still on my bed and I could have lain there for days, admiring his posture and the wonderful depths of his eyes, had my body not suddenly shivered with the cold it could no longer ignore. When it happened again, I closed my eyes and tried to recover my equilibrium. I had to keep still. If I gave in to my emotions now, if I lunged at him like the crazy person I had become was on the verge of doing, he would go for sure.

Closing my eyes brought me no rest, though. It really was blasphemous to have this perfect creature - whom I had pined for constantly during the last seven months - stand in my bedroom and not look at him. I opened my eyes and to my distress saw him striding towards the window. My panic brought my voice back again and destroyed my attempts at retaining any personal dignity in this reunion, but it served its purpose. He turned around. I felt my control start to slip as I begged him once more not to go and an unbidden tear escaped my eye and trickled over my cheek. Damn it, I shouldn't have spoken to him.

Or perhaps I had been right to talk to him, because it made him talk too. I could hear his voice, and though I didn't really listen to the words I revelled in the sounds he made. It didn't matter that I felt colder than I'd ever felt before, or that it hurt my throat to breathe, or that the mattress poked painfully between my shoulder blades. For the first time in seven months, I felt something that wasn't pain, but resembled happiness. He spoke again, and I willed myself to focus on his words this time. He was asking me something, the words somehow ringing a bell in the back of my memory, but I still didn't understand. Then he sat down next to me, so close I could actually smell him, and asked me such an obvious question a small part of my mind began to wonder if he really was a figment of my imagination. That part grew bigger when I felt the mattress shift beneath his weight.

"Have you been hurt?" he asked.

Well, of course I'd been hurt. He hurt me. He told me he didn't want me. I croaked out the shortest answer I could think of in order to avoid the stabbing pain in my throat and I think I saw a flicker of pain, or regret, in his eyes. His pain became obvious when he tried to touch me and I shrank back for fear of letting him disappear so quickly after his arrival.

"Bella, where are you hurt? Please, tell me."

I pondered his question for a while, but thought it a very strange one. Where was I hurt? Tradition would urge me to say I had a broken heart, but I found that such a terrible cliché and besides, that was only part of it. Truthfully, I hurt everywhere. Nowhere he could fix me...

He had taken out his phone and began talking into it very fast, so fast I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. I seized the opportunity to gape at him. His beautiful bronze hair was in perfect disarray, exactly as I'd remembered it, but his eyes were pitch black with dark circles underneath them. I frowned. The Edward I remembered had always had a flawless marble skin and golden eyes. Even my delusionary Edwards were well fed and healthy. Yet the Edward seated here, on my bed, was obviously starving.

"When did you hunt?"

I hadn't meant to ask him as he was in the middle of a conversation, but somehow I just blurted it out. He stopped talking and stared at me in surprise while the shadows under his eyes grew even more pronounced, and I grew worried for him.

"I don't remember," he said after a while. His eyes searched my face, presumably looking for a clue as to what could possibly be going on in my head for me to ask such a question, while he finished his phone call. When he'd closed it, he stood up and opened the doors of my closet. I studied the muscles in his back and shoulders as he searched for something in the unconquerable mess that my wardrobe had become. Though I knew he would never need any sleep, something in his manner of moving made him look tired. I grew confused; this Edward really was very different from the ones I'd gotten used to.

He was carrying a thick sweater and a small pile I recognized as my winter pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt when he suddenly stood by my side again.

"Carlisle told me to get you warm," he said, shrugging apologetically. "He's coming over to see you. He'll be here in a few minutes."

_Carlisle? _

I didn't know what to make of this. I'd never imagined him before. If I could see Carlisle in a few minutes, would that mean I really was crazy? Or could it mean that he was real? And if the dear old doctor was real, his son ought to be too, didn't he? I searched his eyes again. And unbidden, unwelcome and unstoppable, hope exploded like fireworks in the hole in my chest, filling it relentlessly.

He held out the clothes in his hands, looking a bit embarrassed when I made no move to take them from him. I was still reeling from the dizzying feeling in my chest, a hopefulness I hadn't felt in a long while. I couldn't take my eyes off his face.

"You should were these," he said, indicating the clothes with his head. "You know, you're turning blue."

So what? Who cared if I was turning blue? All that mattered now was whether he was really here or not. But I couldn't ask him directly for fear of getting the wrong answer. A fear that was starting to make me feel really nauseous. But since I already knew he didn't love me, and any answer in that direction wouldn't come as a surprise to me, I _could_ ask him a slightly less risky question.

"Why are you here?" My voice sounded fragile and feeble, soft even to my own human ears, but I had no doubt he'd heard me. He stood there for a few seconds, clothes in his hands, before he sat back down on the edge of my bed.

"I came to check on you." His voice was hesitant. "I wanted to know how you were doing." He fell silent and regarded me for a minute, wearing a tortured expression. "Bella, what happened to you? Please, tell me why you're... like this," he ended feebly.

I didn't want to answer that. He wasn't allowed to know I had jumped off a cliff to hear his voice; he'd pity me, which I imagined would be worse than the indifference he'd shown towards me for the past months. I needed to distract him and hastily blurted out the only question I could think of.

"Are you real?"

I realised my big mouth had gotten the better of me. Again. Though perhaps it was better to just know the answer to the question I wouldn't be able to get out of my mind anyway. Rip off the band-aid...

His beautiful lips formed the words that were either my salvation or my final downfall when he suddenly looked away. I followed his gaze, saw Carlisle Cullen standing in my room and, feeling my stomach heave, threw up violently over the edge of my bed into the waste bin that had miraculously appeared right in the line of fire.

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For those of you who don't like overlap: don't worry, it will rarely happen again ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

All right, I'm on a roll here, so bear with me ;-)

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My stomach rolled again as my mind tried to process the churning swill of thoughts and emotions that had taken hold of it. Edward kept my hair out of my face as dry heaves wrecked my body and I gasped for air, clutching the sheets in confusion as the realisation of what had happened hit me. Edward was here. I could feel his fingers as they held my hair, touching the skin on my neck. He had come back to me.

I could hear voices I had never expected to hear again. After seven months, they filled my room and clouded my mind. Carlisle was saying something as my heartbeat throbbed in my head and bright lights flashed before my eyes. My lungs refused to fill, the muscles in my stomach wouldn't stop constricting, and my fingers released the sheets to claw at the mattress in a futile attempt to release whatever part of the pain I could. This was all too fast, I couldn't keep up. Edward spoke to me, his cool breath caressing my face, his wonderful smell bringing up memories I had tried so hard to forget. Carlisle was prying my fingers loose from the mattress, sending shivers down my back. I shut my eyes against the bright lights and my bed started swaying as if it was back in the water with me, the recollection bringing cold sweat to my forehead.

Amidst all the swaying I suddenly felt two cold, steady hands on either side of my face, keeping me steady. My eyes flew open again and locked with Carlisle's as he was holding my head between his hands. I saw his lips move and forced myself to focus on his words.

"Bella. Bella, look at me. Please calm down."

His voice was steady, slow and reassuring and I felt myself relax slightly under his stare.

"Take deep breaths. Everything's okay. It's all right, Bella."

Air rattled noisily to and from my lungs. It hurt, but after a few minutes I grew calmer and the throbbing in my head lessened a bit. Carlisle kept his hands on the sides of my face and his gaze never left mine. Then he smiled.

"That's right. Everything's all right, Bella. Now stay with me, eh?"

I nodded slightly as Carlisle released me, picked up the waste bin and handed it to Edward, who turned and strode out the door. The hole in my chest flared and I rolled onto my back again, letting my head sink into the pillow. I'd only stared at the blurry ceiling for a moment when Carlisle's face swam into focus.

"We need to get you warm, Bella. That's the most important thing now," he said slowly, as if he thought I might misunderstand him. "Your clothes are damp. Can you take them off and pull on dry ones while we wait outside?"

Under normal circumstances I would've blushed furiously, but somehow I couldn't find the energy to be embarrassed. He did have a point, I realized. I was still shivering and couldn't feel my fingers or toes. I gave Carlisle a weak nod and he left my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I released a shuddering breath. What had just happened? I just didn't understand. Why were they here? Why now? I tried to think of an answer, but couldn't. Perhaps I should just focus on one thing for now. On the task at hand, for example. I scrambled to my feet.

It was rather difficult to take my clothes off. The wet fabric clung to my skin before I could throw it on the floor beside the bed. Exhausted, I lay down for a moment before I grabbed the T-shirt and sweater Edward had given me and pulled them over my head. The spasms in my muscles didn't make it easier, and I nearly wished that as there were already two members of the Cullen household back in Forks, they could've brought Alice with them too. She might have helped me, perhaps. Like she'd done last summer...

When I'd wriggled into my pyjama bottoms my breath caught painfully in my throat and my back hurt even more than before. I closed my eyes and let the darkness gathering at the edges of my vision gain ground.

A knock on the door told me Carlisle wanted to come in again. I made no objection and heard the door open while I lay on the bed, catching my breath. I forced my eyelids back slightly and saw Carlisle somehow taking off the damp sheets with me lying on top of them while Edward covered me with several blankets. When they were done, I slowly tugged at the uppermost blanket until it covered my head, and immediately drifted away into the dark realms of oblivion. It was a shame not to look at him while he was here, but I was just so tired...

oo000oo

I dreamt of dark waters tumbling me around and around, tossing and turning, not knowing where the surface was, knowing I would die alone, and awoke with a jolt. The light in the room had barely changed; I could not have been asleep for long. I was still exhausted. Then I realised I had stopped shivering and could actually feel my limbs. I wasn't exactly warm yet, but it was better. Unfortunately the throbbing in my head hadn't lessened, nor had the ache between my shoulder blades.

Edward sat in the rocking chair in the corner, his body strained towards me, looking as if he'd never left, and walked towards me as soon as he saw I was awake. I thought he was coming to stand by my side, but he suddenly halted at the foot of the bed and stood there rather awkwardly. How strange. I'd never seen Edward awkward before.

Then Carlisle came through the door, holding a mug. "Please try to drink some of this," he commented.

I managed to bring my hands up from underneath the pile of blankets and took the warm mug from him, sipping carefully without really tasting what I drank while they watched me in silence. This was surreal, confusing and hurting and my head swam as I put the mug on the bedside cabinet and lay back again, staring at the ceiling. Carlisle's soft voice broke the silence.

"Bella, what has happened to you?"

And so it began; the inevitable questioning. I didn't want to answer him. What did he expect me to say? Did he want me to summarise the last seven months for him in neat, clever sentences? To clarify for him what their leaving had done to me? What I had felt as every member of his family had abandoned me without as much as a note? I had no answers for him, or for myself for that matter. I was empty, devoid of love or hate or regret or shame. All I felt now was exhaustion.

Carlisle looked at me, waiting for an answer. He must have felt he wasn't going to get one because he murmured something I was unable to hear and then asked me if he could look me over. I made no objection and continued staring at the ceiling while Carlisle started prodding and poking me, bending my limbs and taking my temperature with his hands. I paid no attention to him until he started murmuring softly as if to himself, yet loud enough for me to hear.

"Well, as we could see from the contents of the bin Edward emptied, you have swallowed a lot of water."

He paused for a moment. I said nothing and kept my eyes on the ceiling.

"From the smell of it, I'd guess it was sea water." A short silence. "Hearing the way you breathe, it probably invaded your lungs as well as your stomach."

Another pause as I refused to comment on his conclusions. It was all right for him to disappear without a trace and show up again unannounced - he had barged into my room, for God's sake - but if he thought I was going to aid him in uncovering the depths of my demise after his son discarded of me like I was a piece of trash, he was freaking wrong.

"Though I cannot hear any fluids in your lungs anymore," he added, wonder seeping through his voice. "How did you get out of the water, Bella?"

I closed my eyes, trying to reign in the irritation that was flowing through my veins. He obviously already guessed most of what had happened. No need for me to tell him anything.

"Well, no matter, no matter. The important thing is that you did, isn't it?" His voice was louder now, more insistent, but I kept silent.

"Though I must admit I'm more worried about your weight, Bella," he said, addressing me directly now. "You're so much thinner than before, and there really was nothing but water in your vomit."

His insinuation hung in the air like a tempest and I could feel where this was going. Anger, an emotion I hadn't felt for a long time, started bubbling through my blood and I frowned unwillingly, though I managed to keep my eyes closed.

"Pray, tell me, when did you last eat?"

My frown disappeared as I recounted the similar question I had asked Edward this morning and I opened my eyes. Sheer irritation urged me to stare at Carlisle unblinkingly while I threw his own words back at him.

"Pray, tell me, shouldn't you ask your son the same question?" Carlisle blinked at my seemingly polite retort and turned his head towards Edward, who was standing at the foot of my bed. I kept looking at Carlisle; two could play at this game.

"Or does his health not concern you anymore?" I croaked.

Two pairs of eyes shot back to me, and I think I saw a hint of truth in my allegations cross Carlisle's features as I guessed on.

"Did you leave him? Or was it the other way around?"

It was Carlisle's turn to frown now. He opened his mouth to answer me, but I pressed on.

"Because if you had been together, Edward wouldn't have those dark shadows underneath his eyes. But no matter, no matter, it makes no difference whatsoever. Truly, I think disappearing without a trace is a trait you both master equally well."

Edward gasped at my words, but Carlisle's regarded me silently while I secretly marvelled at my own audacity. Anger apparently boosted my eloquence. After a few minutes he spoke, his voice quiet but strong.

"When did you last eat, Bella?"

"It's none of your damn business, Carlisle," I bristled back at him.

"How did you get in the water?"

I didn't answer. His eyes never wavered from mine.

"Did you choose to?" he persisted.

All right then, I'd pick up the gauntlet. I narrowed my eyes and kept my face devoid of any emotion except anger as I answered him straight.

"Yes."

"To kill yourself?" His voice never faltered, nor did mine.

"No."

"Why, then?"

I raised my eyebrows at him, spearing him with my gaze.

"To hear his voice."

Had I not been familiar with vampires and their ways, I would not have noticed the small flicker of surprise that registered on his face before he resumed his interrogation.

"You means Edward's voice?"

"Yes."

All my anger suddenly flooded away. I was past caring that Edward was here in the room with us, that he could hear the details of my sad sorry life and my attempts to hold onto him even when he'd thrown me away. I was exhausted, hurt beyond endurance, drained, confused and I spoke without shame, or feeling, or thought. A desire stronger than I'd ever thought I'd feel to go to sleep and never, ever wake up.

"Did it work?"

"Carlisle," Edward began, but I ignored him.

"Yes."

"You heard his voice?"

"Yes. And I saw him." A sad smile at the memory. "At the end."

There it was; the inevitable pity in his eyes. I didn't want his pity after all this time, after what he'd done, and I looked away. Edward had left the room again; it was just another stab, another portion of pain piled on everything else I had felt today. I lay on the bed, waiting for something to happen, or for them to leave me again. After a few minutes, he spoke.

"Bella."

I didn't look at him.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We never should have left you the way we did."

I wanted to shout at him, scorn him, call him names, break down at his feet and let him hold me, comfort me, let him be my father as he had once been, but I couldn't. I had blocked my emotions so thoroughly they couldn't get out, even if I wanted them to. This morning had left me so numb I just lay there at his mercy, waiting for him to decide what to do.

"I'm sorry," he said again after a while, "I know you must be exhausted, but I'm worried about your body temperature. It isn't dangerously low any more, but I think a bath might do you good. Are you up for that?"

I nodded. _Whatever_. Carlisle bended over me and carefully scooped me from the bed. My legs dangled in the air as I lay limply in his arms, trying to regain some distance between me and the man that had left me by fighting the impulse to rest my head against his shoulder. He smelled of home. It made me feel lost and sad as I realised that Carlisle would never represent my home in the way I had once hoped he would. I was all alone now.

Carlisle carried me to the bathroom where Edward was already filling the tub. He flitted around the edges of my vision as Carlisle sat me down on the closed lid of the toilet and told me to take it easy and call him if I needed anything. He had already closed the door when I forced myself to take some action and started struggling out of my clothes again. My limbs ached from the fall and it took a while before I was naked and stood facing the tub. It was filled almost to the brim with cloudy white water. The warmth of it was slightly overwhelming as I climbed in shakily.

I laid my head back against the tub and closed my eyes, tired beyond belief. The hole in my chest tore open and I shuddered silently with the force of it. I hadn't jumped off the cliff to kill myself, but when I'd seen him in the water I'd given up fighting. Did my lack of action constitute a suicide attempt? And if it did, shouldn't I feel worried?

I didn't. It didn't matter. Edward was here, I loved him, but he didn't love me back. He would leave again, had probably left already. Did I want to be around to experience that kind of pain again? I already felt the beginnings of the anguish I had felt as he had left me the first time. It would happen again...

Suddenly I felt older than I had ever intended to feel, ever intended to be. The silence in the bathroom was hollow, making my own breaths sound loud and unnatural as they echoed off the water's surface. I silently slid beneath it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

And another one... ;-) I'd love to hear your opinions, so please review!

* * *

She saw water, lots of water. Dark, churning waves that came down upon her at an alarming speed, that thrashed her limbs and entered her lungs. All she could see was darkness, and I saw it with her.

It was a lot like her short dream this morning. Back then, I couldn't believe what I'd seen, what I'd heard, because this had never happened before. I'd thought I'd imagined it, like I'd conjured up her face every time I had closed my eyes during the final months of our separation. But now I was sure. I could see Bella's dreams. She finally let me in.

Something wasn't right though. A small voice piping up in the back of my head tried to tell me that, but I was too mesmerised by this new experience to figure out what exactly it was saying. I closed my eyes to concentrate better - I didn't want to miss anything. Everywhere she looked a stifling blackness prevailed. She couldn't get out. And then we both saw my face and she didn't want to get out. She stopped fighting as she looked at me and felt her muscles cramp up.

My feeling of unease grew. Something was wrong, and as I was watching her thoughts, I wasn't doing anything to fix it. But I was so eager to finally understand what was going on inside her mind and share something with her - like we used to - that the thought was pushed back and I stayed immobile, seeing what she was seeing. When she grew cold she realised she was drowning. My presence there made dying pretty bearable, it made her happy. Sort of.

She was getting tired when the image she saw of me spoke. I recognised my words as the lies I'd told her in the forest, right before I left her, but this time I could not only feel my pain, but hers as well. It was paralyzing. She reached out for me but I took a step backwards, turned around and disappeared in the shadows of the water. She wailed in agony, the hole in her chest ripping open, leaving her with nothing but her drowning body that was screaming for oxygen. By now, the voice in my head was screaming as well and I still didn't listen. The water disappeared and she lay on the forest floor while the rain streamed down on her. Every drop of water that touched her skin caused a burning fire to consume it. The pain of it made her welcome death with open arms.

This was wrong, all wrong. I didn't want to see this. It was sick. The perverseness of these gruelling images were twisting my stomach. With all my might I pushed them back, clearing a path for my screaming subconscious to finally make itself heard. Gasping, I broke out of my hypnotised fascination and reality kicked me squarely in the face. I remembered again what had happened today - how I'd seen Bella for the first time, how I'd called Carlisle as I realised she was sick, how she'd started hyperventilating as soon as she'd seen him, how she slept and I'd thought I'd seen her dreams, how she'd said that she jumped off a cliff to hear my voice and how we'd encouraged her to take a bath. I remembered how I had waited outside the bathroom door for her, hating to leave her alone, and how I had ripped the door off its hinges as soon as I'd heard a faint stir in the water and fear had suddenly - inexplicably - gripped my heart, feeling that something was wrong. I'd been entranced by seeing her thoughts and dreams while Bella lay in the bathtub, completely invisible beneath the white water but for a cloud of long brown hair floating ghostly on its surface.

I knew what was wrong now. She wasn't breathing. And I was doing nothing.

Cursing myself, my hands plunged into the water and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up. For a moment, I worried whether I was too late; I had no idea how long she'd been under. But as her head broke the surface, she immediately opened her eyes and drew a deep breath. My fears for her life temporarily evaporated, but were replaced by a deeper, darker dread.

"Bella, what are you doing?"

Her eyes skimmed the bathroom before coming to rest on me. She seemed confused by my question, as if she didn't remember anything that had happened. I shook her shoulders, their fragility scaring me as I searched her eyes, looking for clues as to what could possibly be going on inside her mind. After a while her gaze became questioning and a bit defensive, as if she was silently asking me why I was touching her while she was naked in the bathtub. I might have been embarrassed by this during happier days, but now I had no intention of releasing my grip on her shoulders. Chances were she'd slip right back. I wasn't going to risk that. I leaned towards her, bringing my face mere inches from hers while I looked straight into her eyes.

"Don't do this again." The reproach sounded harsher than I'd meant it and sadness filled her eyes at my words. She nodded mutely. "Don't hurt yourself, Bella," I said in a slightly softer tone. I didn't know if this latest development in the day's dramatic events had been a conscious attempt on Bella's part to take her life or if it had been nothing more than an unfortunate accident, but she was obviously not to be left alone from now on.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice still rough.

"It's all right," I said. She looked so small, as if the tub could accommodate four persons instead of only the one it did. "Just take care of yourself, okay?" Her eyes widened then, like something had startled her, but there came no more response.

Not knowing what else to do, I lifted her by her shoulders to stand with her feet on the bottom of the tub. I looked into her eyes as I reached for her bath-robe, which I'd placed on the radiator before she'd taken a bath, and wrapped it around her, gently tying the cord and careful not to get it wet. Then I reached down and gingerly lifted her out of the tub. Her dramatic loss of weight only now became fully manifest.

When I set her on her feet again she swayed slightly, so I increased my hold on her, fearing she might slump to the ground if I released her. With one hand firmly around her waist, I reached for a towel with the other and started drying her hair, looking at her face all the while. She stared back, her expression unreadable.

"I can do this myself, you know." My hands stopped in their tracks. The sudden animosity in her voice was palpable, filling my heart with another wave of sadness.

"I know." I looked back into her eyes. "I'm done." I took a step back. She pulled her arms through the sleeves of her robe and looked around her, her gaze coming to rest on the bathroom-door that hung limply off its hinges. She stared at it for a moment, then looked back at me. I stood there rather awkwardly, holding the towel.

"So," she began, and paused, looking so tired. "How are you?"

Such a normal question after everything that had happened that it took me off-guard. It seemed utterly absurd to be talking about _my_ life and what _I_ had been doing during our separation while _she_ had nearly drowned twice today and, judging by appearances, had been subjected during that time to a number of other ordeals that I didn't even know about. How could she want to talk about these things?

And really, how was I? My whole mind was whirling with all these devastating impressions her countenance had made on me that it seemed impossible to go along with such a trivial conversation. I would try my best though, and hastily scrambled in my mind for an answer that would sound fairly light-hearted.

"I'm better, you know, now that I'm here." That would have to do.

"Oh." She averted her eyes. "Well, that's... good." Her voice drifted off slowly on the last word.

"How are you feeling?" Her eyes shot back to mine and I instantly regretted asking. Like hell, obviously. Stupid question.

"I'm fine."

Of course she was _fine_. That was the only word she'd ever given as an answer when asked about her well-being.

"So... how's Charlie?"

"He's fine." And of course Charlie was _fine_ as well. I was growing exasperated; this must be the emptiest conversation we had ever had. It was going around in circles, carefully avoiding the topics that mattered the most. Even when we had been trying to get to know each other, and small-talk had been mandatory, more had actually been said. I didn't want to scare her away though, so perhaps it would be best to plough on.

"Where is he, by the way? I haven't seen him."

"He's on a fishing trip, with a colleague of his." She hesitated. "He'll be back on Sunday."

Right, it was spring break here. I'd been so absorbed in my own misery these past months that I had completely lost track of time. When I'd called Carlisle yesterday to ask if he would accompany me back to Forks - like the coward that I was - I had had to ask what day it was. Carlisle's thoughts hadn't been very sympathetic towards my recent solitary expeditions into the middle of nowhere when he'd answered, in an uncharacteristically dry voice, that it was Tuesday. Nevertheless, he had been with me when I had arrived, only two days later, in the town I'd thought I'd never see again. Now, however, Carlisle was nowhere to be seen or heard; he had gone back to our house when Bella had climbed into the tub.

She cleared her throat and I snapped out of my silent reverie. She stood there looking embarrassed, causing me to suspect I'd been silent for too long and hadn't followed the usual conversational maxims I normally applied when talking to humans. I'd never had to follow them when I was with her before, but now I felt that I did.

"Um, I'm just getting dressed," she said in a rather scratchy voice, looking at her feet. She made for the door, still not commenting on the damage I'd done to it, and I stepped back, allowing her to pass and following her towards her bedroom. Her smell drew me in as she padded down the small landing, stopped at the door post, turned around, looked at me for a few precious moments, and closed the door in my face.

oo000oo

Once again, I kept silent vigil right outside her room, this time paying better attention. I listened for the faintest sounds that could indicate anything was wrong; I listened to the rhythm of her breathing and of her heart, listened for any bumps or scratches or any confrontations of her body with any sharp objects. I might have been overreacting and overcautious, but I would do anything to keep her safe. I just couldn't trust her anymore to do the same.

She _had_ promised though. When I left, she'd assured me she wasn't going to do anything stupid. A promise she obviously hadn't kept, couldn't have broken more thoroughly in fact. Cliff diving. For God's sake...

The hinges of her wardrobe creaked as Carlisle's thoughts entered my mind. He came in through the front door and slowly made his way upstairs, hands in the pockets of his coat. _Out of the bath already?_ he thought, raising his eyebrows slightly as he surveyed the empty bathroom and its damaged door.

"I pulled her out," I whispered, making sure she wouldn't hear. The softest scratch of clothes hangers scraping against each other issued from her room. "Her breathing stopped so I broke down the door to get her out. She was completely beneath the surface."

Carlisle frowned, staring at the closed door, listening to what was happening behind it. I did the same. Fabric rustling against skin and a gentle swish as her robe fell to the floor.

"You think she did it on purpose?" Carlisle broke the silence. My eyes snapped to his.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "She didn't move at all when she was in the tub."

Carlisle stared at me for a minute, mentally debating the case, then asked me the question I had dreaded since the day I left.

"What did you tell her when you left her, Edward?"

I froze. It seemed only fitting that Carlisle, the man who had always believed in the goodness of my soul no matter what kind of atrocities I had committed, would be the one to hear the answer. It would finally prove him wrong. I whispered my reply, unable to meet Carlisle's gaze.

"I told her I didn't want her. That she's not good for me." I could feel the air shifting as Carlisle's hand jerked slightly in my direction, but he immediately controlled the movement. He carefully restrained his thoughts as he processed this new information on how I had mistreated the woman I loved, and then he spoke again.

"And she believed you?"

"I could see it in her eyes that she did."

We both stared at the closed door again. Bella coughed, but her breathing resumed its usual rhythm after a few seconds. I'd seen her faith shatter.

"Well, then you'll have to prove her wrong."

"Yes," I acquiesced, though I had no idea how to do that. I doubted she would believe me if I just told her I loved her. Nothing of her was left undamaged; at the other side of the door an underweight, possibly suicidal and literally drowning woman was fighting to make it through the day. She looked like she could never be whole again and her pain was the result of my disastrously wrong decisions. Because of my blasphemous lies, she thought I didn't love her. I truly was the most disgusting creature on earth, a parasite sucking the life out of everything true and honest.

Carlisle seemed to know what was going on inside my head.

"Don't, Edward." His eyes were cold as they stared into mine. "We are just as much to blame. We should have refused to go. Reasoned with you."

I couldn't agree with him. Interference from the rest of the family wouldn't have made much difference, probably. I had been so convinced that my decision was the right one, I doubted I would have listened to reason.

"By the way, I notified the family," Carlisle whispered while taking of his coat. "Esme will be here in a few days, with Alice and Jasper. I took the covers off the furniture, so they'll be able to move back in without too much trouble. Rosalie and Emmet might stay a while longer." I nodded. Rose obviously wouldn't have been overly enthusiastic when she heard that the rest of the family were returning to Forks.

A squeaking mattress.

"I spoke to Alice," Carlisle went on. "She can't see anything definite, but she's sure Bella _can_ come back from this. She's stronger than she looks, you know."

I nodded again. The fact that she was still alive when she looked like this was proof enough of that. I wished I'd never have had to see how strong she really was.

"Did Alice see her jump?" I asked. I hadn't thought about that before, but I was sure she would have called me if she'd seen anything like that, even though I'd told her not to look.

"She didn't." _I wondered about that as well_. "She told me she hasn't seen her for months. Only when you came back did she start seeing flashes of her future. She can't really make anything out." Carlisle thought about it for a second, then started to fix the bathroom door. Cotton caressing silken skin...

I didn't like this. Alice always used to see the same future for Bella, regardless of my opinions or plans about her mortality. The vision she'd had in which Bella was a newborn vampire had always been incredibly clear, like nothing could prevent it from happening. I hadn't wanted that for her at the time, but now, when her future consisted of nothing more than a few flashes and a lot of emptiness, it seemed like the lesser of two evils.

The thought brought back the memory of the flashes I had seen today. Up until then, I'd resolved not to tell Carlisle anything about Bella's dreams, but as I came to terms with the importance of what had happened, my resolve wavered.

"I saw her dreams", I blurted out. Carlisle froze, standing in the doorway, looking at me. His thoughts were a mash of surprise and barely contained curiosity.

"What did you see?"

"Water. Lots of it. She drowns and when she sees my face in the water she stops swimming."

"She gave up," he muttered softly, as if to himself. "You still can't hear her thoughts, though?"

"No. Just her dreams, or whatever they are. I doubt she was sleeping in the tub."

"Perhaps you can hear her when her mind is at its most vulnerable? When she retreats inside her dreams and leaves the waking world behind?"

"I don't know," I mumbled. Carlisle's words were ringing in my ears. _She gave up_... Was the Bella I came back to really suicidal? What the hell had I done to her?

"Edward." I looked back up at Carlisle. "I'm glad you're back." Then the door creaked, and Bella appeared in the doorway, and I could hear her heartbeat, and see her eyes, and smell her hair, and for the first time that day I was glad to be back too. I was home.

* * *

I rather struggled with this one... so please let me know what you think! Next chapter, Bella's POV. She might tell them what's what then ;-)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

And that's the last one, for now ;-) The next chapter will be posted sometime next week. I'm curious to know what you think, so don't hesitate to leave a review!

* * *

I stared at the door, shell-shocked. When I'd closed it I had immediately backed away from it, but now my arm was outstretched, my hand straining towards the handle. He was there, right there, behind the door. If I knew him, like I'd once thought I did, he would stand there for as long as I was in here. But I didn't know him - not anymore - and if I moved my hand just one further inch I could open the door and beg him not to leave.

On the other hand, if he had already left, there was nothing I could do about it. If he was leaving in the very near future, there was also nothing I could do about it. He was stronger, faster, smarter than me; I had nothing that could hold him and nothing that could stop him.

I forced my hand back, turned away from the door, and slowly made my way towards my wardrobe. The mess inside seemed bigger now than it had done before; the reappearance of Edward had opened my eyes, bringing me out of my semi-unconsciousness and introducing me again to the finer aspects of life that had gone unnoticed during the past months. Most clothing lay on the bottom of the closet, but a few items still hung on hangers. Best to choose from those.

Well, at least I'd tried. When he pulled me out of the water I'd begun to realise how all this must seem to him. Our reunion probably hadn't gone exactly as he had hoped. There had been no crowd to part, no band to strike up, no singer to croon that when she fell in love, it would be forever. No spotlights had lit up our faces like they were the only ones in the room and we hadn't floated towards each other and started swaying to the music.

No, instead I had puked into the waste-bin and he had broken down the bathroom door because that girl, the one he remembered and had hoped to meet today, had changed so dramatically that not only had she nearly drowned to hear his voice, she had tried to drown herself in the bathtub as well. At least, that's what he thought. And he had every reason to think so, because his hands had had to keep her above the surface.

But was he right? I shook my head and walked to my chest of drawers. I didn't want to think about it.

When he told me to take care of myself - almost the exact same words he had used when he'd left - I'd realised that he must be bitterly disappointed by now and that if I didn't do something about it, he would leave. That was the one thing I could not allow to happen. No matter how tired I was or how much I hurt, he wasn't to leave. I had to keep him here.

So I'd struck up conversation, to give him a sense of normalcy. I did a lousy job of course, trying to keep up with him while my brain processed everything with the speed of a snail. I'd been so overwhelmed by the touch of his hands on my shoulders, and then later on my waist, that I could barely keep my eyes open, all the emotions having sucked away what little energy I'd started the day with. He had dried my hair and though a part of me had positively rejoiced, another part had sneered at him. Why was he doing this now, when seven months ago he clearly had no difficulty in leaving me to do everything on my own? I could do something as trifling as drying my hair.

Speaking about such trifling things had been a lot harder though. Trying to do small-talk with Edward had been absurd. There was this huge area of questions and accusations that I could never talk about because I didn't want him to leave, so the short conversation we _had_ shared went on about absolutely nothing. I couldn't look at him, too shy to admit that things were so very wrong while he stood there looking as perfect as ever, though perhaps a little shabbier. Eventually, he had fallen silent for such an inordinate amount of time that I had fled into my bedroom.

I untied the cord of my robe - very much aware that Edward, _Edward_, had just touched the same bit of fabric I was touching now - and pushed it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I put on underwear, thinking back to the multitude of things that had happened, unable to draw any conclusion from it all. Taking a pair of jeans from my closet, I sat down on the bed and started to pull them on, wincing. Why did this hurt so much? I stood up.

With my back towards the mirror and looking over my shoulder, I could see the outer edges of a big purple bruise forming between my shoulder blades. It took me a moment to make the connection.

_Jacob_.

Jacob had pulled me out of the water, towed me towards the beach and hit the water out of my lungs. It hadn't hurt at the time - other things had hurt then - but it must have caused the bruise. When I'd started breathing again he'd carried me to my truck and drove me home. He was climbing up the stairs with me in his arms when he'd started shaking, and he'd put me down on my bed and jumped out of the window without saying another word. Half an hour later, Edward had arrived, and I'd completely forgotten about Jacob. Until now.

Why had he left so suddenly? Had he smelled Edward or Carlisle? That was likely, and it explained his leaving. Damn, he was probably mad at me now. He always did have a short fuse where his so-called mortal enemies were concerned. Well, no more of that. I'd call him. I covered the bruise by pulling on a t-shirt and, on top of that, a hooded sweatshirt. Even after the bath, I was still cold.

Opening the door brought me back to the here and now. There they were, frozen, perfect, beyond beautiful; the love of my life and the man who had enabled me to meet him more than a hundred years after he was born. They both stared at me for a second like I had grown a second head, then stepped aside as I tried to pass them.

"Excuse me," I murmured, as they flattened themselves against the walls and I came a bit closer to them than I would have wanted under these circumstances. They smelled just the same, their fragrances bringing back memories of the days that had been the happiest in my life. They had been so close to me then - they'd been my family - but now they were like strangers with whom it was uncomfortable to be alone. What could I say to them?

Nothing, I decided as I stumbled down the stairs. I had no idea what to talk to them about, so I would say nothing, for now. When my feet slipped and I had to hang on the railing to keep from falling, I heard a small gasp right behind me, but I didn't look back and nothing was said. I finally made my way into the kitchen, grabbed the phone and dialled his number. Turning around, I saw Edward standing in the doorway, watching me, while I waited for him to pick up.

He didn't.

I sighed, closing my eyes and putting the phone back onto its cradle. My head-ache was back. I couldn't bear to lose him.

"Bella." I opened my eyes again and saw that Carlisle had joined Edward in the doorway. He spoke to me in a friendly tone with friendly eyes, and I could feel myself warming to him against my will.

"I'm going now. I wrote my number on the notepad on your desk, so if there's anything you need, please dial that number and I'll be here."

The warm feeling evaporated like mist and silent hurt enveloped me. A phone number. That was all I would get. I shook my head. It wasn't enough.

"I don't want it." My voice was quiet and I stared at the floor, trying not to show any emotion. "I won't need anything. From you."

The silence that ensued was broken by the call of a stray crow, out in the yard. I was so cold.

"Nevertheless, I've left it there. I'll be back tomorrow. I'd like to explain things." I looked up and tried to protest, but he'd already disappeared.

That left just Edward. One gone, one to go... His ethereal beauty clashed with the mundane interior of the tiny kitchen he stood in.

"Shouldn't you go with him?" I asked. He made a step towards me, hands in his pockets.

"He's gone back to the house. Esme, Alice and Jasper will arrive in a few days, so he wants to get things ready."

I frowned. I really didn't understand this. It was strange enough to see Edward and Carlisle come back so suddenly, but now the rest of the family were coming back as well? What kind of lives did they lead if they just kept moving around like this?

"I'd like to stay here for a while, if that's all right."

I bit my lip, not knowing how to respond. He was asking me if he could stay? He should have asked me if he could go, seven months ago. I turned my back on him and took a glass out of one of the cupboards, filling it to the brim with water, chugging it down in one swill. I only noticed then how thirsty I really was and quickly filled another glass.

"How are you feeling?" He sounded anxious.

"I'm fine." Except I felt exactly the way I imagined a fish must feel when children were drumming on its fishing bowl.

He sighed. "Could you please say something else?" I took a sip.

"What would you like me to say?"

"You could start by telling me how you really feel."

I turned to glare at him, my heart pounding as fast as my head now. He stared back icily.

"What do you want from me?" My voice was as cold as his expression.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, I came to check on you. I needed to know if you were all right."

"And am I?" Puzzlement filled his eyes, and he averted his eyes and looked out the window as he started to answer.

"Bella, I..., I'm..." he began, but fell silent. I waited for a minute, but nothing more came out of him.

"Well then," I murmured. "You can't even answer that one."

I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs again, taking my glass with me. I made it without incident this time, and for that I was grateful. I was tired of being the damsel in distress and letting him be the one to solve everything according to his own ideas of what was right and wrong. He didn't know anything about right and wrong.

The bathroom door looked like it always did, slightly askew but functioning. Then the bath loomed into view, looking completely normal, yet somehow ominous as well.

I stared at it for a minute. The water was still in there, off-white and glassy. It looked threatening even though it couldn't reach me now, and I nearly stepped back before I told myself to stop being so silly. It was only water. I rolled up my sleeve and leaned down, but my hand stopped when my fingertips hung about an inch above the water. They trembled slightly. I hesitated, the veins of my hand slowly getting bluer and more pronounced.

Just when I decided I just had to grab the plug and get it over with, the surface of the water rippled and his white hand disappeared beneath it. I pulled my hand back as his emerged, then straightened up and watched the water drift slowly through the drain, slurring loudly. The sound reverberated in my head, making me feel strangely sickened. I looked at him, and his eyes locked with mine, and for a moment it was like nothing had ever happened, and we were still us, and he loved me, and I trusted him. But his eyes were sad, and I could imagine that so were mine, and they told of the things that _had_ happened, and the pain they'd caused. There was no way to ignore it, or to get around it.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You're welcome." His voice mirrored mine. There were no adornments to it now, no hidden messages or secret emotions. This was the mess we were in, and I wanted to clean it up, to make it go away, but I had no idea how. I looked at him wistfully for a moment, then turned towards the cabinet.

The painkillers were right were I'd left them, second shelf next to my toothpaste. I popped two out of the bottle, put it back in the cabinet and closed the doors. Edward's image stared at me in the mirror as I swallowed the pills with the remaining water in the glass. I opened the cabinet again and started brushing my teeth, mirrors facing sideways.

oo000oo

He followed me around the house for the rest of the afternoon. After waking up, so to speak, I'd realised that I had been somewhat neglectful to everything around me for the past months, so I'd gathered all the laundry, stripped both Charlie's bed and mine, sorted everything into big piles, and put the first load in the washing machine. Then I'd started cleaning the kitchen.

Doing chores made it easier to cope with Edward suddenly being here, and I didn't have to try to speak to him all the time. He just followed me around, and though I found his behaviour rather bewildering, it provided a temporary truce that probably made this whole thing as comfortable as it could get. I sometimes got too close to him and found myself aching to touch him, but I was too unsure of everything to even think of actually doing that. So I did the dishes, and cleaned the oven, and scrubbed the floor, and made the beds, and scrubbed some more, while Edward stood by and continually offered to help me. I didn't want his help.

At five o'clock, I was wasted. I didn't really want to face sitting still and staring at Edward, but I was too tired to do anything else. I opened a bottle of water and sat down on the couch in the living room, drinking half of it in one go. I squirmed when Edward sat across from me in Charlie's chair, and thanked God that he wasn't here. I had no energy to bury any bodies...

That was when I noticed the small parcel on the table. It was wrapped rather clumsily, the paper all crumpled up, but there was a small card attached to it. I opened the card and saw my name there, scribbled in Charlie's messy handwriting. It seemed impossible with all the heartbreak that was going on here, but I smiled. He'd bought me a present.

I carefully unwrapped it. _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_, by Oscar Wilde. I bit my lip, staring at the thin book, then opened it. Charlie had written again on the first page:

_Bella,_

_I know you haven't read much lately, but I thought that perhaps it would be nice for you to pick it up again. Something small might do the trick._

_I remember you once told you me you enjoyed Oscar Wilde? This was the shortest one I could find._

_Enjoy yourself while I'm away, okay? _

_See you Sunday_

Tears prickled in my eyes. I hadn't read anything these past months, but I remembered telling him that I loved Oscar Wilde. I'd read _The Importance of Being Earnest_ last summer, just after I came home from the hospital in Phoenix. I'd finished it the same day I'd started it, and soaked in every word of it. It had lifted my spirits back then, and Edward had said he'd never seen me so mesmerised by a book before, _Wuthering Heights_ being the only exception perhaps. A stray tear escaped my eye and trickled over my cheek.

"What's wrong?" Edward interrupted my reverie.

"Nothing," I mumbled, wiping my cheek with my fingers.

"You got a present?" I nodded, handing him the book, careful not to touch him. I turned on the lights and closed the curtains. Edward was staring at the message Charlie wrote, so I slipped away into the kitchen and once again called Jacob. He still didn't answer.

Dejected, I headed back into the living room. The small book lay on the table again, my end, and I picked it up, wrapped myself in a blanket and huddled into a corner of the couch, trying to get warm.

"You're cold." I looked at him. He was watching me, bending forwards, arms resting on his legs and hands between his knees.

"Yes." My voice was cold as well, and silent.

"I'll turn the thermostat up." He was gone before I could shiver and back again before I had opened my book.

Silence ensued. I tried to read the introduction to the poem, but couldn't concentrate on the words that were written there. A sense of unease had grown in the back of my mind. Where was Jacob? Putting the book down I hobbled towards the kitchen again, careful to keep myself wrapped in the blanket. Still no answer.

"Who are you trying to call?" Edward had followed me into the kitchen.

I hesitated for a second.

"Jacob."

His face was blank.

"You know, Jacob Black?"

The blankness was gone faster than it had come. Instead, a frown was marring his lovely face, twisting his features until they spoke of nothing but ill-concealed anger. I started.

"What's wrong?" I hedged. "You know him then?"

"Yes, I know him, Bella." The ice in his voice made me feel even colder than I was already. "I wish you didn't, though."

_What?_ "Why?"

He deliberated for a second.

"You shouldn't call him, Bella."

I stared at him for a minute, surprised into temporary speechlessness. Then I forced my brain to react.

"Don't tell me what to do." My voice was quiet, but stronger than I had expected. His eyes were cold again, solid orbs of dense blackness.

"Bella, really - " he began, but I cut him off.

"Don't you dare," I hissed at him.

"You shouldn't -"

"How dare you?" My voice rose slightly in pitch, a soft prologue to the storm I could feel building up inside me. "How dare you talk to me about what you think I should or shouldn't do?"

"He's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "And what would that make you?"

"You should stay away from him."

He was filled with self-righteous resolution, and it drove me off the edge. The last vestiges of calm I had tried to hold on to crumbled.

"Don't tell me what to do!" I yelled, furious now. How had this conversation turned so quickly into something I feared the most; a prologue to Edward's leaving? A part of me was terrified by the possibility of goodbye, yet another part had suddenly started screaming at him, hating him for once again making my decisions for me.

"For God's sake, he's a werewolf!"

"You think I didn't know that? Yes, he's a werewolf, and you're a bloody vampire! What difference does it make?"

His face was suddenly etched with disbelief, and I could see his control slipping from his body, the frustrations of the whole day knotting together and gaining ground. He strode towards me while he shouted back, pointing at me with one hand while waving wildly with the other.

"_What difference does it make?_" he thundered. I'd never seen him this angry before. I stepped back against the counter. "Have you actually gone completely mad? Don't you have any, _any_ regard for your own safety anymore?"

I gaped at him, feeling as though he'd hit me in the face. The volume had gone out of our fight as quickly as it had come, and bitter silence took its place. He stared back at me, tension evident in every line of his face and every detail of his posture. I narrowed my eyes, shaking with repressed anger.

"He pulled me out of the water this morning."

His eyes widened in surprise, but I went on.

"He jumped in after me, and got me out, and he hit the water from my lungs with his own bare hands. If he's so extremely dangerous," I hissed, "then how come I'm still here?"

He looked at me, completely fazed. A car passed in the street, his hand slowly dropping to his side. After a few minutes, he pulled himself together.

"He pulled you out?" he whispered.

"Yes, he did." Cold, I sounded so cold... even to my own ears.

Our eyes met. Naked agony, plain for me to see, had replaced the anger in his.

"I'm so sorry."

A pang in my chest.

"Sorry he pulled me out?"

"No!" He looked horrified. "No, of course not. How can you think that?"

I stared at my hands, clutching my blanket. I couldn't stay mad at him if I thought about things like this, and if I wasn't mad at him I would beg him to stay. Then I felt him, standing close to me.

"Bella." An agonised whisper. "Bella." I looked up at him. "How can you think that?" he whispered. The lines of his face were still twisted, but the anger was gone and had been replaced with something deeper. It drew the truth from me.

"You don't want me." It hurt me to say it to him, to acknowledge the fact again, but I felt I couldn't pretend anymore. We had been silent for the whole afternoon, trying to postpone the inevitable, yet somehow all of this had just poured out anyway.

"That's not true." I searched his eyes, but could find no contradiction to what he said in them.

"You told me so."

"I lied."

"You lied?" I frowned. Not once had I even considered that perhaps the possibility could exist that Edward had lied to me that day. No matter what he'd done to me, I'd thought that at least he'd always been honest.

Something broke inside me, a tiny fissure that caused no pain but that somehow felt permanent, like it would never fully heal. I tried to step back, but found myself already pressed against the counter. He followed my movements with sad eyes, but made no room for me to pass him.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" I was getting tired of his guessing game.

"I'm sorry I wasn't the one to pull you out of the water. To keep you safe."

"You left." A dry whisper was all I could manage. "It wouldn't have happened if you didn't."

"No," he murmured, "no, it wouldn't have."

He was so heart-achingly beautiful, standing right in front of me, yet so completely unattainable. I could reach out, like I'd done in the forest, I could touch him if I tried, perhaps, but I could never reach him, make him mine. He was lost to me, and this couldn't go on. If I had to keep doing this for even another minute - another minute of trying to be brave, of being angry, of trying to hide the pain I felt in a vain attempt to keep him here - I would lose whatever was left of me. I felt frail, so breakable, and knew that seeing him walk away again would destroy everything I still managed to be, but I couldn't go on like this. I couldn't be confronted every day by the love of my life and the fact that he didn't love me back. Gathering all my courage for what I was about to do, I felt a pressing sense of hopelessness blanketing me, stifling me.

"I'm sorry." The same words came out weak, a frail echo of his smooth voice.

His hands shot in my direction, but he didn't touch me. His eyes were wide, pitch black. Fearful?

"For what?" His voice was distracting in its beauty... I took a deep breath and continued.

"For what happened. You know, today." I could see the curve of the muscles in his chest beneath his sweater. I had never touched him there. Would never would touch him there.

"Bella - " he began, but I cut him off.

"You can go, really. I'll be fine here, so you shouldn't feel any obligation at all to stay. I'm sorry for what happened in the tub. Forget it, please. I'm fine." My voice wavered on the last word and I quickly stopped talking. I wanted to break down, now, to stop existing before he could go away again.

His face was devoid of any emotion as he regarded me for a minute.

"Do you want me to leave?"

I knew I should say yes, but if I could've done it before I couldn't do it now. So the minutes passed by as I struggled to answer him, not knowing how, not even wanting to. _Of course I don't want you to leave. I love you_. If only he could read my mind right now.

Then he lifted his hands, slowly, silently asking my permission. I couldn't say anything, trapped like a hare in the spotlight, completely dazzled by his scent, his beauty and the fact that he wanted to touch me, _me_, sad act Bella Swan. His hands were bigger than I remembered, and he placed them on either side of my face. I stopped breathing.

"I'm so sorry for having left you alone." His breath clouded my thoughts, pulled me closer to him. "I never should have done that. I thought it would be best, for you, you know. You were constantly in danger because of me, and I had to try and keep you safe."

My brain was sending me tiny signals, but they were only enough to make me start breathing again. I inhaled.

"It didn't work out as well as I'd hoped, obviously. I thought if you thought I didn't want you, you'd get over me so much sooner."

I looked down while his thumb stroked my cheek. Then he took hold of my chin, and nudged my head up, making me look at him. His eyes, already so black, had turned, impossibly, even darker.

"Bella, I lied. I love you."

I shook my head, looked sideways. He'd lied, he was lying.

"You're a liar," I whispered. "I never thought you were..."

I tried to step sideways in a feeble attempt to slip out of his grasp, but one of his hands gripped my shoulders.

"Bella - "

"Please, don't," I begged him. I needed to get away from him, to gain some distance, to clear my head. But he didn't loosen his grip and he looked into my eyes, capturing me with his gaze, his smell, his beauty. He leaned even further towards me, his lovely face only inches away, eyes burning into mine.

"I love you. Please, please try to believe me. I lied in the forest, but I'm not lying now."

"Don't," I repeated, trying to look away and failing miserably. His eyes filled with pain, or regret, and some other emotion that was harder to identify.

"I'll prove to you I'm not lying," he said, his voice filled with resolution. "That I love you."

Before I could voice a protest, to even begin thinking of one, his lips were one mine, soft yet hard and as cold as I'd felt a mere minute ago. Reason fled from my mind. I kissed him back, pouring everything I felt into this one thing we apparently hadn't lost. My hands tangled in his hair, and he did the same as he pushed me against the counter. It was bliss.

I forgot everything that had happened. I forgot why I shouldn't be kissing him, why it was wrong and why I shouldn't have allowed this, and just pulled him closer to me.

But then he pulled away, and with the sudden distance between us I remembered. I remembered how he'd always done this, how he'd always pulled away, rejected me while I laid everything I was bare before him. I remembered how he said goodbye, and I reached out for him, and he'd kissed me on my forehead, and pulled away. And left.

I remembered he had lied, and that he'd told me he loved me, and that I'd realised that he couldn't love me or he wouldn't have left. He was a liar, a thief of my life, and had come back to steal the tiny amounts of love, and friendship, and trust that I was still capable of feeling.

No conscious thought was involved, no sensible deliberation. I rammed my fist against his face and felt it breaking on impact.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Lyrics belong to the amazing Johnny Cash. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I love reading your thoughts on this story.

All right, I've been having some fun with these two... Very curious to hear your thoughts about it!

* * *

I pulled away, feeling triumphant, my eyes on her lips. I had kissed those lips, those soft, warm, wonderful lips not a mere minute ago, and they had kissed me back. Although it had become clear to me throughout the day that I had destroyed almost everything we had had together, _this_ was something that had apparently remained unscathed.

But I looked into her eyes, and saw the raw, raging hurt and anger in them, and realised that this, too, we had lost. I saw her fist coming, so slow as it entered the corner of my vision, and looked at her sadly, knowing what she was about to do. Her ire surprised me, but I stood still, waiting, and watched her hand come closer. Her knuckles were white beneath her skin, and touched mine in so gentle a way that it could have been a caress.

But the tender delusion vanished when a bone inside her hand snapped. It was a sickening sound, and it took a few moments before she cried out in pain.

"Oh, for the love of..." she winced, and ended in a string of profanities. I cursed myself for the second time that day; I should have stopped her as soon as I saw her intent, as soon as I knew she was going to hit me and only hurt herself. She was clutching her hand to her chest, and I reached out to examine it, to see the damage she'd done. But as soon as I'd released my grip on her shoulders, she wrenched herself away from me and stormed out of the kitchen, up the stairs.

"Bella!"

I followed her up the stairs, my heart quenching when I saw her stumble yet again and flowing with relief as she reached her room safely and slammed the door behind her. I could hear her rummaging.

"Bella, please be careful. Your hand is broken."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she yelled through the door. "You come back here after leaving me without a moment's notice, taking my family away from me. You've been gone for seven months without a word, left me alone to fend for myself, and then you storm back into my life and tell me what I've been doing wrong while you were away!"

I shook my head. She was finally telling me what she was thinking, giving me some glance at her point of view, and this came out. _I hadn't meant to do any of this_. I tried to tell her that, but she was on a roll, pulling on shoes by the sound it.

"You tell me you lied when you left, but that I should believe you when you say now that you love me! How does that add up, Edward? You're a bloody liar! Then to prove your point, you dazzle me, knowing what you can do to anyone you stand too close to, and make me kiss you back!"

_No. No no no no..._ I never had a clue that this was the way she interpreted my behaviour. Seeing it her way, kissing her had been the worst mistake I had made today. By her terms, I'd taken advantage of her.

She opened the door, wearing her boots.

"Bella, I'm so - "

"Shut up."

She strode past me, down the stairs again. Panic settled in my gut. I was going to lose her again. She was running away from me, and I would lose her. She picked up her coat and began to pull it on, wincing as she tried to put her broken hand through one of the sleeves. Years of ingrained civility made me move towards her, trying to help her into her coat against my better judgment, but she held up her good hand.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

"Bella, please, let me take a look at your hand." I reached out again.

"Don't touch me!" She forced her hand through the sleeve with her other hand, wincing, and stormed out the front door.

"Where are you going?"

"Away."

It was raining. A thick black drizzle poured down, drenching the earth and falling like a heavy cloak around her receding figure. I followed her as she started walking up the street, and pulled my phone out of my pocket, calling Carlisle. I could not allow her to get away from me like this. It was too soon, much too soon. He picked up, and promised he would meet us along the way to take a look at her hand. He could stop her... I snapped my phone shut.

"Bella!" I yelled, willing her to stop. Really, what was she doing? _She's leaving you... _

"Would you for the love of God just stop following me?"

"Where are you going?"

"Go away!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

She had already passed the next house but didn't stop walking. Her shoulders were hunched, her hand cradled near her chest. A car passed by, and she traversed to the side of the road, drudging through the mud.

"Bella, stop this."

She was getting drenched. I started walking faster to catch up with her, get her out the rain and end this insanity, but I'd started too late. I saw her feet slipping in the mud and started running, but she'd already lost her footing and was falling sideways.

"BELLA!"

I shouted her name, but she couldn't use her hands to catch herself. While the rest of her body had already come to rest in the soft earth, her head hit the asphalt.

My hands missed her by inches. I closed my eyes and felt the thud reverberating in my eardrums. I smelled her blood, and my eyes shot open again, dread curling in the pit of my stomach. Her heart was beating, rather quicker than usual, but it was beating, and air was wheezing in and out of her lungs. I sank to my knees at her side.

"Bella."

She lay on her side. Her eyes were open, clear, focused, and they found mine as she looked up.

"Can you move your head?"

She stretched her neck slightly, and nodded.

"Please, let me see," I murmured. Thankfully, she didn't protest, and I gingerly turned her head sideways. There was a gash on the right side of her forehead, shallow but bleeding profusely. She must have smelled it too, because her breathing suddenly hitched and her skin turned even paler.

"Take deep breaths," I urged, staring in her eyes again. "It's all right, nothing serious, okay?"

She nodded again. I tore off a piece of my shirt and pressed it against the gash on her forehead. She winced, breathing laboriously.

"I'm sorry," I said apologetically, but didn't let up on the pressure, hunching over her, trying to shield her from the rain. Her hand lay limply at her side, looking rather blue, while she looked up at the sky, or at the edge of the forest above her. I stroked her cheek with my thumb, then fitted my hand around the side of her neck, her pulse beating steadily beneath my fingers. Her eyes found mine.

"Carlisle's coming."

"Okay," she whispered. All the fight seemed to have seeped out of her, like the blood that had trickled out of the cut on her head and was washed away by the downpour. She was cold again, all the progress of today obliterated.

She tried to flex the fingers of her hand, but gasped.

"It's broken," I murmured. A small drop of blood had escaped my improvised bandage and was trickling down her face. She squirmed in discomfort, and I wiped it away with my fingers. Only then did I realise that I didn't thirst for her blood anymore, didn't even notice how good it smelled or how it clung wetly to my fingertips. I found I couldn't think about that when she was hurt, and wondered how I ever could have done so in the past.

Her eyes had lost the hostility they'd had during the day, and they stared up at me full of wonder. They were beautiful. She was beautiful, even when she was broken like this. I took her uninjured hand in mine and squeezed it softly. Then Carlisle's Mercedes came round the corner and stopped a few metres away from us. The door opened and my father stepped out of the car, looking calm as ever. He greeted Bella quietly, kneeled down next to her stared at her eyes, tested her reflexes. Then he peeked beneath the make-shift bandage, lifting it up gingerly.

"That doesn't look so bad, Bella. Just a scratch." He glanced briefly at her hand. "And a brace for your hand, I should think."

She nodded at him.

"Well, let's get you in the car, then." He supported her broken hand and kept the make-shift bandage in place while I cautiously lifted her in my arms. Her head rested against my shoulder and I felt her warm breath on my chest. I carefully sat her down in the backseat and slid next to her, replacing Carlisle's fingers on the bandage with my own.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at me, her pale face illuminated by the lights on the dashboard.

"Yes."

"We're going to my house, if that's all right. Carlisle has his things there."

"All right." She closed her eyes and rested her head against my chest.

"Are you in pain?"

"Just a headache," she murmured. The car's engine rumbled softly in the background. It was wonderful to hold her like this, to feel her in my arms again, to keep her safe somehow.

"You came back," she whispered, so softly I barely heard it.

"Yes, I did," I muttered, not knowing what else to say. Her uninjured hand fisted my shirt.

"I'm glad you did."

My eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Are you? I asked bleakly. She leaned back slightly and looked at me for a minute.

"Yes." Her voice was low. "I'm sorry I hit you."

A mental bomb of silent astonished thoughts exploded in the front of the car. Carlisle's eyes briefly met mine in the mirror. I looked back at Bella.

"It's all right. You hurt yourself, that's worse."

She laid her head back against my chest and closed her eyes. I tentatively lifted my free hand and stroked her hair. She didn't object, and I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. For now, she allowed me to touch her. _I could touch her_. I pulled her closer to me.

We reached the house much too soon. It looked rather ominous in the dark; dreary and grey, the scene of those last, tormented days I had spent in this town. Carlisle got out of the car and opened the door for us, then took hold of the bandage for me. I slid out of the car and carried her up the porch, through the front door and into the house. Somehow, we were here together again, and that thought pushed the dreadful memories away. Carlisle led us to the kitchen and I carefully set her down in one of the chairs. He took the shirt away from her head and looked at the wound. It had stopped bleeding.

"I'll get my bag," Carlisle announced, and disappeared. I sat down as well.

Her eyes were wide as they took in her surroundings. For the hundredth time that day, I wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking of pleasant things, happy memories connected to this place? Or were her memories darker than that, riddled with fear?

She looked back at me, and the only emotion I was able to discern was doubt.

"Are you staying here?" Whispered words, hesitant and soft.

"Yes. I'm not leaving." I tried to sound as sincere as possible, desperately wanting her to trust me, to believe I wasn't going anywhere, but I had a creeping feeling that it would take a lot more than that. She bit her lip.

Carlisle entered the kitchen again, putting his bag on the table and getting everything he needed out of it. She closed her eyes, and we all stayed silent while he cleaned the wound, disinfected it and put a dressing on it.

"There," he said, and she opened her eyes again, "that's the worst of it."

She smiled faintly.

"Let's take a look at your hand then." He carefully took her hand in his and examined the break. He didn't need an X-ray.

"Just a fissure, I believe," he said softly. "You'll only need a brace, if you promise not to take it off." He looked at her. She nodded.

"All right then." He went about it in silence, and I got up and washed my hands at the sink. The blood seeped away swiftly, leaving a strong smell behind. Carlisle chuckled.

"You hit this son of mine, then, Bella?" he asked her, his voice full of mirth. She seemed a bit ashamed as she answered him.

"Yes, I did. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, it's quite all right," he grinned at her. "I'm sure he deserved it."

"I don't know..." she frowned at him, and glanced at me.

"I did," I told her. "He's right. I did - I _do _- deserve it."

She looked down again, and shook her head.

"No..."

Carlisle's thoughts oozed with curiosity, with the desire to know what had happened, but - as always - he controlled his feelings perfectly. He was done fitting the brace and leaned back.

"How's that?" he asked her. She stared at it for a moment.

"It's fine."

"Right then. You'll have to promise not to take it off, all right?"

"All right," she said quietly. "Thank you."

He smiled at her.

"You're very welcome. Do you need any painkillers now?"

She shook her head.

"Tell Edward if you do, okay? I'll see you tomorrow Bella." Carlisle stood up, gathered his things and left the kitchen.

We stared at each other for a minute, then she looked around her again. She was so pale...

"Are you cold?" Her brown eyes came to rest on me.

"Yes."

I flitted to the living room and was back before she had the chance to blink.

"Here." I held out a blanket.

She frowned, glancing down at her muddied jeans.

"It'll get dirty."

"That's all right. I'll put it with the laundry."

She took it and after a moment's hesitation unfolded it and wrapped it around herself. She looked even smaller that way... thinner, somehow.

"Would you like something to eat?" She hadn't eaten a single thing since I'd turned up, and she already had become so slim.

"No, thanks."

"Are you sure? Carlisle's already shopped for groceries.

"No, no, it's fine."

"Or we could order some take-out? Really, it's no bother at all." My voice was pleading by the end of the question.

"Don't bother, please. I'm not hungry."

I felt myself deflate before her.

"Right," I muttered, then raised my eyebrows. "Something to drink, perhaps?" The hopeful voice was back.

She bit her lip.

"Okay..."

I nodded. Good. Good, good... I could do something for her. And keep her here, with me. I opened the fridge.

"What would you like?" She stood up as well and joined me in front of the fridge, staring at the contents.

"We've got juice. Apple, orange?" She looked doubtful. "Coke, water? Tea, or coffee?"

"I'd like a beer, if that's all right?" She peeked up at me. I stared at her in surprise for a beat, then forced my voice to sound natural.

"Of course." I took a bottle, opened it for her, poured some of the disgusting-smelling liquid into a glass and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she muttered, and took a small sip, then another.

I gazed at her in amazement.

"Is it any good?"

She shrugged, and looked around her again, occasionally taking a sip from the glass she held in her uninjured hand. She'd hurt herself when she hit me... but with everything else that had happened to her it was just another part of her that was broken. She looked relatively calm, and I decided to try again, to apologise, to explain.

"I am truly, really very sorry for everything that has happened," I told her quietly. Her eyes came back to rest on me. "For today, for the way I behaved today, but also earlier. I really thought it would be best for you if I wasn't part of your life. You were in the hospital because you were with me. Carlisle had to stitch your arm back together because you were with me. I had to do something, try to keep you safe, so I left, hoping that you would have a normal life that wouldn't be put at risk every single day. I see now that I was completely, disastrously wrong, but at the time I thought it was the only thing left to do."

She drew a shaky breath and swallowed another sip. I kept my distance, not wanting to repeat what had happened in _her_ kitchen.

"I'm so sorry I told you I didn't love you. I wanted you to move on, to forget about me, to be happy with someone normal, even though the thought of you being with _any_ other man was, and _is_, unbearable. I'm sorry it didn't work, I'm sorry it was all in vain, and I'm sorry that saying sorry isn't enough to make you trust me again. I understand that, but I will try every single day to regain your trust, to make you sure of me again. I love you. Until the day the earth stops moving, I will love you. My heart is yours, even though it does not beat. I am here, and I will not leave before you tell me to. I am here. And I love you."

She stood there, looking at me, wrapped in her blanket, her hair cascading over its edges, looking older than her years.

"You really were wrong, weren't you?" she muttered cynically.

"Yes, I was. It made me the world's biggest fool, leaving you."

"I need some time."

I nodded.

"I understand."

But that didn't make the dread go away. I needed to know.

"Am I too late?"

She looked at me sadly, then emptied her glass and shuddered as she swallowed, scrunching up her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she grouched, though I got the feeling she already knew perfectly well what I meant. The dread intensified.

"Do you love somebody else?"

I stood on a precipice, balancing between the future and the past, between love and life. Her eyes slowly opened.

"Watch it please," she muttered, while pouring the remaining contents of the bottle in her glass. Then she looked me straight in the eyes, waving her glass in the air. "I _do_ need this other hand, you see..."

I gazed at her.

"Right," I mumbled, more to myself than to her. Right.

She let out a sigh.

"Edward, did you use your brains _at all_ while you were away?"

Her question brought me back to the empty, dreary days spent in the dark, having no purpose but to lament what I'd lost. She arched an eyebrow.

"Well, no, actually. No, I didn't."

It tried to hide it, but my voice unmistakeably spoke of sadness, of happiness thrown away. The sadness was reflected in her eyes, in everything she did. She took a slug.

"Then I suggest you reboot that immense brain of yours."

I blinked at her. Did she actually smirk at me after saying something like that? Bella on alcohol, a tiny bit of it but on an empty stomach, mind you... I'd never seen her like this before.

"Right," I said again, disappointed. I'd hoped for an answer, but I obviously wasn't going to get one anytime soon.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she grumbled at me. "Why did I jump off that damn cliff, Edward? I told you why I did that, and if you listened perhaps you'll remember it wasn't because I've fallen in love with somebody else. Open your eyes, for once, and stop asking me such _stupid_ questions. "

"You could have just told me that, and I wouldn't have had to ask," I retorted.

"No I couldn't." She emptied her glass.

"Can I get you anything else?" I queried automatically, just hoping that she wouldn't ask for another beer. After everything that had happened, that I'd seen that had happened to her while I'd been away, she couldn't have been getting drunk as well.

"Some Tylenol perhaps?"

"Your head?"

"No, my hand."

"We've got some upstairs. Come with me?"

I held out my hand. She hesitated.

"Please. It won't happen again, I promise."

"What won't?"

"What happened today, in your kitchen. I was wrong to do that."

"Oh." She looked baffled, but put her glass on the table and placed her hand in mine.

"Thank you."

We went upstairs, slowly, careful not to make her fall again, relishing the touch of her hand in mine, so small and even more breakable than before. Another flight of stairs and we were on the third floor. She halted abruptly, her eyes transfixed on the door straight down the hall. _My_ door, the door to my room. It was open. She let go of my hand.

I looked at her.

"I'll go get the Tylenol," I muttered, and headed into the bathroom.

When I came back, she stood in the middle of my room, looking lonely, looking lost. I walked over to her, handing her the pills together with a glass of water. She swallowed them and returned the glass.

When I'd put it back, she'd moved and was looking at my CDs.

"Charlie loves this."

I looked at the CD in her hand. _The Legend of Johnny Cash_.

"He's got good taste then," I commented.

She shrugged.

"I don't know. Probably."

I took the CD from her and put it in my player. First time I'd done this in seven months... I switched to the twentieth number and put up the volume.

"Well, I'm sure you'll see some merit in this one," I muttered.

I looked back at her. The guitar started playing, and he started singing, recognition flitting across her face, dread flooding in her eyes.

"Oh, please don't," she pleaded. I frowned, not understanding her distress. But then he sang the fifth line of the song, and I remembered what was still coming, and understood, and shared her fear as he sang on.

_You said one love, one life_

_When it's one need in the night_

_One love, we get to share it_

_It leaves you baby if you don't care for it_

She raised her hands in defeat and resignation, turned away from me, and started walking towards the door.

"Bella, please don't go." She halted.

_Did I disappoint you_

_Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?_

_You act like you never had love_

_And you want me to go without_

"Bella." _Don't turn away from me..._ I walked towards her.

_Well, it's too late, tonight,_

_To drag the past out into the light_

Her arms were wrapped around her waist. _Look at me._

"Bella."

She turned to me, but she looked down. I reached for her, and she stumbled a bit as she let me pull her into my arms, her body full of tension.

_Have you come here for forgiveness?_

_Have you come to raise the dead?_

My hand fit around her waist. I took her uninjured hand in mine. She realised what I was about to do and looked at me, startled, and tried to draw back.

"Please," I asked.

I didn't tighten my grip on her, like I'd done before, but stared into her eyes. They spoke of the seven months past.

_Did I ask too much, more than a lot?_

_You gave me nothing, now it's all I got_

_We're one, but we're not the same_

_Well we hurt each other, and we're doing it again_

I started to move, cautiously, shuffling slowly, but she followed, her body relaxing.

_You said love is a temple_

_Love the higher law_

_Love is a temple_

_Love the higher law_

I felt her give in. Her hand, packed in the brace, moved up to my shoulder hesitantly. It rested there. I turned us around.

_You ask me to enter_

_But then you make me crawl_

_And I can't be holding on to what you've got_

_When all you've got is hurt_

I drew her to me, a bit tighter, burying my face in her hair. She smelled wonderful, and I never wanted to pull away.

_One love,_

_One blood, one life_

_You've got to do what you should_

I stroked her back, felt her grow calmer. We shuffled on. There was nothing but us now, and the way we touched each other.

_One life, but we're not the same_

_We get to carry each other, carry each other_

_One._

The song ended, but we didn't stop. The next one started, and we shuffled haltingly on.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I love reading your comments :-D

* * *

I woke up in my own bed, in my own room. The morning sun shone brightly through my open window, blinding me momentarily. I looked at my familiar surroundings, squinting against the light. It seemed like nothing had changed, like everything was exactly the same as it had been before, but I knew - and I couldn't make myself believe otherwise - that everything had changed.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I whispered the words to myself. They sounded alien in my ears, like they belonged to a language I didn't understand, because they represented something I'd hoped for but never thought would ever happen.

"He's come back."

The whispered words sounded flimsy, insubstantial, like they didn't amount to the magnitude of the events that had taken place just a day ago.

"He's come back to me."

It was impossible, unbelievable, but it was true, and I couldn't and wouldn't fool myself enough to try and convince myself I'd made the whole thing up. Edward had come back to me.

I glanced at my alarm-clock, and turned on my side. He wouldn't be here for another two hours, plenty of time to take things easy. I'd slept so well... better than the months before.

I thought back to the day before, and cringed in my pillow. I'd made such a mess of it... First the cliff, then the vomiting, then the bathtub, the naked thing, _oh God, the naked thing_... I turned on my other side and felt the bandage scratch against the skin on my forehead. The kiss, the kiss which was heart-warming and heartbreaking at the same time, and then the punch, which I still thought he actually deserved. But still, I'd punched the man I loved because he made me kiss him back...

Bloody childish.

I rubbed my hand over my face and felt the bandage again, and squirmed. I'd ran from him, like the teenager that I was, and fell. Looking back though, it had probably been the best thing that could have happened. I'd fallen down countless times during the past months, but this time I didn't have to crawl to my feet on my own. He was there, and he let me lean on him, and I couldn't be angry any more. So I stayed put, and resolved to at least try and let the anger go. I didn't trust him, didn't believe him in the slightest, but I couldn't be angry anymore that he was here. Because I still loved him, even if I couldn't tell him that, and it was a miracle that he was here.

A smidgen of unease bloomed in my stomach. Suppose he wasn't here? He could have promised me he'd be back by eleven, and then leave in the middle of the night. He'd be God knows where by now... My heart accelerated nervously, but I tried to control my panic as I sat up and clambered clumsily out of bed, stumbling as my feet got stuck in the sheets. I'd just have to wait and see.

A soft warm breeze blew my hair back as I walked to the window and looked at the world outside. The first warm, sunny day of the year in Forks; how fitting. The sky was bright blue and the morning sun had already reached a small part of Charlie's lawn. I drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the clean, fresh air. A very lovely day in Forks...

I leisurely made my way towards the bathroom and started to strip. When I pulled my shirt over my head, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, and paused to stare at myself. My skin was pale, rather see-through - or so it seemed - and I looked tired despite my good night's sleep. The bandage was still in place, though a bit crumpled, and I glanced down at the brace that was fitted around my hand before I looked back in the mirror.

"You _have_ made a mess of it," I mumbled to myself. I'd made a mess of everything these past months. I'd stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped talking to my friends, to Renée, to Charlie. I'd stopped reading, and listening to music, and I'd stopped taking care of myself.

Well, no more. The face in the mirror started at me with quiet determination. Just because I hadn't looked after myself didn't mean that I couldn't start now. I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the cascading water, turning my head towards it and letting it flow over my hair and face and soothe my nerves. I was careful to keep the brace dry, and when I'd finished I slowly pulled the sticky bandage from my forehead. They were right; it really was just a scratch.

I would try, from now on. I would eat, and read, and try to sleep, and perhaps even listen to music. And if he left again, I would finish the whole thing properly.

ooo000ooo

When I went downstairs, I felt refreshed. I had replaced my customary jeans and T-shirt with a pair of denim shorts and a rather low-cut top Renée had bought for me before I left Phoenix and which I had never worn yet. I'd have a decent breakfast, then spend the day lounging in the sun, reading and dreaming... I opened the fridge and stared at it dumbly for a few moments. It was chock-full of everything I used to eat but hadn't since he left. Did he do this?

I sighed at myself in exasperation. Of course he had. Or Carlisle had, which was practically the same. I opened a cabinet, and saw the same there; everything placed neatly in its proper place.

I bit my lip, not knowing how to feel about this, then decided that it did not matter and that it wasn't worth spoiling my good day over. I dubiously gathered everything I needed for pancakes and bacon and tried not to think about how everything had gotten there.

The house was silent as I ate slowly, knowing that I should eat if I seriously wanted to start taking care of myself, but I wasn't very hungry and the more I ate the queasier I began to feel. I did manage eventually though, and washed up in relief, then glanced at the clock. Another hour.

ooo000ooo

Fifteen minutes later, I was happily settled in one of Charlie's loungers and wearing the pair of sunglasses I had also never yet worn in Forks. The sun was already warm on my skin, and I closed my eyes contentedly. I'd tried to call Jacob again, but he still hadn't answered and as I soaked up the sunbeams every thought of him slowly fled from my mind until nothing but the warmth remained.

I put the backrest of the lounger at ease and started reading the book Charlie gave me. By the time I'd finished, I felt reborn - despite the rather depressing content of the poem. I lay back against the chair and closed my eyes, compromising the world into nothing but shades of red and the small persistent doubts I tried to quench. _He would come..._

He did.

A few minutes later, perfectly punctual no doubt, his perfect voice interrupted my musings and called my name. I opened my eyes and saw him standing at the edge of the yard.

"Good morning," he smiled, looking handsome as ever as far as I could see from the distance.

I lifted my hand in silent salute. He stood still for a moment, his head cocked slightly to one side, then walked towards me, treating me to me the most awe-inspiring spectacle I could imagine. His skin glittered like thousands of diamonds in the sun, making him look like some perfect creature that couldn't belong on this earth, let alone in Charlie's yard. I stared at him through my sunglasses, ogling him none too subtly I expected.

"Enjoying the sun, I see?" he called as he came closer.

"Yes," I said dumbly. He stopped beside me and looked up at the sky.

"It's rare, a day this fine so early in the year."

I nodded as his gaze turned back to me.

"Grab a chair," I told him.

Half a minute later, he was seated beside me in the sun, glittering, taking my breath away. Our eyes met.

"How are you?"

"I'm good." I tried to sound as optimistic as possible.

"Good," he smiled. "Did you have breakfast?"

The question surprised me.

"I did," I answered eventually. "Did you?" I asked, looking at his black eyes.

"Not yet," he grinned. "I'm glad you ate. Carlisle chewed me out yesterday, you know."

"He did?"

He gave me his crooked smile that made my stomach flip.

"The beer was meant for Charlie, and you hadn't eaten anything."

"Oh." I'd only asked for a beer to see if he had the nerve to refuse. As I'd already said; bloody childish.

"Do you feel all right?" He'd turned towards me in his lounger, his grin fading. I shrugged.

"Yes." He looked at me for a minute, probably deciding whether or not to believe me, then sat back again.

"Good."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, occasionally stealing glances at each other. I slowly relaxed in his presence, got used to him being here. It wasn't easy; he seemed to sparkle brighter by the minute.

"Won't the neighbours see you like this?" I asked him eventually, though I didn't care as much as I probably should. I enjoyed looking at him too much for that.

"They've gone out," he answered, looking at me again.

"Oh, right," I mumbled. Our conversations used to come easily, like water flowing in a quiet stream, yet now I had no idea what to say to him, and I was rather beginning to suspect he shared my uneasiness. As I closed my eyes and turned my face towards the sun, I wondered if it would stay this way, should he stay.

"Do you have any plans for today?" he asked.

"Not really." I thought of my resolutions. "Just reading in the sun, I guess."

"Was it any good?" I opened my eyes and saw him looking at the book on my lap.

"It was great, though I have a feeling I didn't grasp it all. Probably have to read it again, sometime..."

"Do you want to read it now?"

I shook my head.

"No. It's a bit depressing, to be honest." I wondered if Charlie had known that when he bought me the book. Probably not.

"Could I have a look then?"

"Go ahead." I handed him the book.

We were silent for a while as he ruffled through the pages at an inhuman speed and stared a bit longer at certain passages, but then he abruptly stood up.

"Let me get you something to drink."

He stalked off towards the house while I stared after him in surprised bewilderment. He was by my side again within minutes and handed me a glass full of a thick, pinkish liquid. I tentatively took a sip as he sat down. Strawberry smoothie, another one of my past favourites.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, thank you. I haven't had one of these in a while." They were still delicious.

"I thought they were your favourite?"

Oh, he remembered. I shrugged and lay back again, my face towards the sun.

"You used to drink them all the time," he went on.

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to talk about this, but I could feel his eyes on me, and sat up again.

"Did Carlisle do all this?" I asked to distract him, raising my glass.

"Yes, he did."

"When?"

"Last night, while you were sleeping. Apparently, there are quite a lot of 24 hour supermarkets in the area."

"Oh," I mumbled. "And he put it all in the kitchen after he came back?"

He looked a bit uncomfortable and answered in a careful voice.

"No, I did."

I thought back to yesterday evening, getting out of the car and wishing him a good night and going into the house alone, and frowned in confusion. He saw my expression and elaborated.

"You left the front door open."

Did I? I didn't remember.

"I hope you don't mind?"

"No no," I muttered, still reeling from his disclosure that he had stored all the groceries in my kitchen in the middle of the night. Why were they doing this? I was stymied, and had no room to 'mind'.

"That's why you didn't hunt?" I gazed at the dark shadows under his eyes.

"I suppose so..." But he didn't know?

"You really should, you know," I muttered, deciding not to question him any further about why he hadn't hunted for so long. Seemed I wasn't the only one not taking care of myself...

Our eyes met, but he made no further comment, and I lay back again, marvelling at the wondrous colours the sun bathed the world in and occasionally taking a sip of my delicious smoothie.

"You look much better," he finally said. My eyes fluttered open and I saw him gazing at me, the book in his hands forgotten. I pursed my lips.

"Don't, please."

"Don't what?" He stared at me.

"Don't do anything like that." He sat up straight.

"Like what?"

"Like you did yesterday," I elaborated in a cold voice. "You know, paying me compliments, playing strangely appropriate music." _Telling me you love me_.

"I didn't do that on purpose."

"Well, just don't do it today." Perhaps the alcohol had been a good thing for that horrible situation, but I didn't want to break my resolutions from now on.

"I'm sorry." There was an undercurrent of sadness and resignation in his voice that made me regret telling him the truth. I searched for something to say while he stared at the book, his eyes looking darker than before.

"Please tell me you'll eat, Edward," I pleaded. He looked at me again, his expression carefully contained beneath his perfect beauty.

"Just hunt, and you'll look your usual stunning self," I tried to joke, to make light of the conversation. The corners of his lips turned slightly upwards.

"I will," he promised, looking sincere. "Soon."

I nodded at him.

"All right," I said, and finished my glass.

"Would you like something else?" I shook my head.

"No, thanks. I'll get something myself if I want to."

Our uneasy conversation stopped at that point, and I slowly entered a silent stupor as I lay in the sun.

ooo000ooo

Something startled me, and I woke up. I lay in the shade, underneath a big parasol that hadn't been there when I'd dozed off. I turned my head sideways and saw Edward sitting next to me, in the shade, looking like at me like he'd done the first time I'd ever seen him; frustrated. I shifted rather stiffly.

"What time is it?"

"It's nearly five," he said softly without looking at his watch.

"Five?" I'd thought I just dozed off for a few minutes, but how long had I actually been sleeping?

He gave me a small smile.

"You've slept well."

"Yes." I couldn't hide my surprise. I _had_ slept well, _again_.

"Did you get the parasol?" I asked to change the subject.

"I did. I didn't want you to get sunburnt."

I stared at my pale limbs.

"Fat chance," I mumbled, then scrambled to my feet. "I'm going to get a drink."

He joined me as I walked to the house and entered the kitchen. I'd just taken a glass out of the cupboard when the phone rang. I lifted the receiver, but Edward's skin - subtly sparkling in the afternoon sunlight - was such a spectacle that I forgot to say anything and just held it to my ear. He really was extraordinarily beautiful...

"Bella?" A familiar voice piped up from the receiver, and I paid attention.

"Jake?"

A strangled gasp issued from the horn.

"Jacob?" I frowned.

"No, it's Billy." I hardly recognised his voice; it sounded so rough and lifeless that my scalp prickled and my heart beat faster with a fear that slowly filled it.

"What's wrong?" It came out as a whisper, an octave higher than usual. I could only hear his ragged breathing for a minute, a rhythm that was starting to match my own.

"Billy, what is it?" I lifted my face to gaze at Edward, staring at me in concern. His face began to blur slightly.

"It's Jacob," Billy finally said, strangled. My legs turned weak beneath me.

Jacob.

_No, no, no... _

"Where is he?" I managed to whisper. I could see dark curtains gathering at the edges of my fuzzy vision; a sensation that had lately become so familiar, and I welcomed it.

_Jacob_.

"He's dead, Bella."

The glass fell from my hand, and the curtains closed.

* * *

Um, should I go into hiding? ;-) I'd love to know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to all of you for reading and/or reviewing! I know these updates are coming slowly now - exams and essays are a nuisance ;-) - but they'll come faster after next month. So sorry for that, but please bear with me!

I hope you won't be disappointed by this chapter; to date it has been my favourite one to write. I'd love to hear what you think!

* * *

The curtains were red. A dark, brownish red - like the colour of blood that's just started to congeal. They were made of some sort of thick, heavy velvet, and they were old, thin at the folds as they hung like a vast, impenetrable wall before me; strangely sinister. I averted my eyes.

They came to rest on the floor on which I lay. It consisted of row after row of dark wooden planks, looking just as old as the curtains. I reached out and touched them with my fingertips. They were smooth, even at the cracks under their thick layer of wax. It wasn't enough to keep me interested.

I drifted away into unknown places. I drifted for hours, for days, years, no matter which. Because time did not exist here, and feelings were something of the past you did not remember. I floated silently, without direction, without thought or emotion and without change.

ooo000ooo

But then something _did _change. A gust of wind made the curtains, which had seemed to be so heavy and strong, flutter. It ruffled them, making them reflect the bright lights of the lamps that hung above, and then it swirled against my body, though without finding immediate contact. It had a name, I knew instinctively, yet I knew not what it was.

A second gust ruffled the curtains, slightly more forcefully this time. As it glided over me and yet again found nothing to cling to, I recognised it, but I did not feel it.

It was Calm.

I felt nothing here, nothing on this empty stage as the wind kept blowing through it in strange gusts that always grew a fraction in force. I was able to recognize them, name them as they twirled my hair and stung my eyes, but never feel them.

Peace.

Happiness.

Cheerfulness.

Excitement.

I named them all quietly as they came and subtly changed in theme.

Thoughtfulness.

Doubt.

Melancholy.

Fear.

They were so easy to recognise and yet so unimportant here. They touched me, and blew away in an endless cycle of slight variances. None of them stuck.

I watched the curtains ruffle. Ever more violently they moved over the floor of the stage, until a gust of wind so much stronger than the previous ones made the two halves part, and open fractionally. A gasp of shock escaped my lips as I left the stage and looked into a pair of golden eyes for just a fraction of a second and felt everything that was my due. It crippled me, the pain it caused. Every emotion I should have had got left behind as I fought my way back, back behind the curtains and away from the eyes that sent them all to me, yet the strongest one, the one that had opened the curtains and started all this, clung to me. It stayed behind, until nothing else remained.

Grief. A grief so all-encompassing it left me breathless, tears springing in my eyes as I tried to push it back through the velvet wall and to its other side from whence it came, but the curtains wouldn't budge.

So I was left grieving, and alone. I knew who I was grieving for, and as soon as I thought his name I heard the unmistakeable padding of his bare feet walking towards me.

"Jacob," I stuttered as he lay down beside me, facing me.

"Hey Bells," he smiled at me. Then he frowned. "Why are you crying?"

I burst into full-blown sobs at the sight of his beautiful, friendly face.

"Hey," he said softly, and reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear. I clung to the feeling of his skin on mine, his _warm_ skin that ignited the one emotion I actually allowed myself to feel.

"You're not really dead, are you?" I whispered haltingly. His smile turned sad, and his eyes filled with pity.

"Would Billy have called you if I wasn't?"

Hope extinguished, leaving devastation in its wake. The grief was overwhelming, suffocating me as I shook my head desperately.

"No, no, no," I sobbed through the tears that came ever faster. "No, you're not. I saw you when you pulled me out." My voice was begging him to agree with me. It was impossible, too horrible a thing to even contemplate.

"Bella," he began softly, but I wouldn't let him speak.

"You told me off for being so stupid. You carried me to my truck and brought me home," I sobbed.

"It must have happened after that," he said quietly. This caused my tears to stop.

"_It must have?_" I gasped. "You mean you don't know? How can't you know?"

"I only know what you know, Bella." He wiped my tears away, looking apologetic. "I'm not the Jacob as you knew him. I'm a part of you. You brought me here." He looked around him, at the curtains, at the spotlights that gave them their sinister look. "Where is here, by the way?"

He turned to lie on his back.

"On a stage," I whispered pathetically, looking at him as he lay with his hands folded underneath his head, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. _Oh, Jacob..._

His eyes locked with mine. "A stage?"

"Apparently."

"Hmm." He looked at me for a few more moments, then resumed his previous position. "I wonder why you came up with that?"

I wasn't distracted. "How did you die?" I whispered.

"I told you, I don't know," he said without looking up. "_You_ don't know, so _I_ don't know." He paused. "I tell you what though, this _is_ a strange ceiling. No way in hell can I see it."

I turned to lie on my back and followed his gaze. He was right. There was nothing but blackness above the lamps.

"Technically, there isn't even a ceiling," he muttered, more to himself than to me. I took his hand. He looked at me.

"How are you?" he asked, squeezing my hand. I bit my lip. "You look like hell," he grinned.

I smiled back weakly. "Thank you."

His grin got even bigger. "You're welcome." We stared at the ceiling for a while in silence. Then I went back to looking at him.

"Why are you here?"

Jacob's grip on my hand grew stronger. "You know you asked your bloodsucker the same question?" His voice was hard now, cold.

"Jacob," I began, but he interrupted.

"Look Bella, stop asking everyone the same question and just enjoy they're there with you," he snapped.

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't believe you are a part of me," I bit back. "I would never be this snappy at myself."

"You don't know anything about yourself, Bella. You don't know who you are, or what you want. You're such a teenager."

I huffed with indignation. "I'm older than you, you know."

"Oh really? You want to start that argument again? Jeez Bella, I'd have thought you'd have more important things to do here."

I looked around me, at the empty stage, the morbid velvet.

"Like what?" I asked. His eyes met mine. The anger had gone from them.

"Like asking yourself the same question you ask everyone else."

"You mean 'Why are you here?'"

"No, why are _you_ here."

"That's what I meant," I snapped. Bloody know-it-all...

I thought about it for a while, but came up with nothing, then noted idly that the grief had died away inside me. I was numb again.

A familiar gust of wind distracted me as it blew through the curtains and touched my skin. It was longing, and it drifted away.

"You might want to pay better attention to those, you know," Jacob commented once the wind had died down.

"What?" I frowned.

"Well, you can name all these emotions, but have you ever thought about why they're here?"

I hadn't, of course. But this wasn't a hard one to figure out.

"Jasper," I whispered. Jasper must have arrived back in Forks... Where was he? Was Alice with him? And where was Edward? Was he with me, like he'd promised? And where was I, come to that?

"Yeah," Jacob mumbled. "You should let them in, Bells." He squeezed my hand again while I shifted uncomfortably.

"It happened before you came." I shuddered at the memory. It would have been the understatement of the year to say that I didn't like it.

"You're not supposed to like it," Jacob interrupted my thoughts. "The concept is as old as the hills, Bella. When somebody you love dies, you grieve. It's nothing special." I could feel tears welling up, but I tried my best to hold them back.

"You were something special," I mumbled. His eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a while. "I loved you," I whispered eventually.

His face was sad as a new gust of wind ruffled the curtains.

Yearning.

"Not as much as him," he said.

We were silent for a long moment.

"Well, at least you've figured out what you're longing for."

I had. The feeling had its grip on my heart. I longed to be with Edward. I longed for him. But I was afraid to go back.

Jacob looked at the ceiling for a while, then turned on his side, facing me. "What are you holding back for?" His voice was passionate. "You love him, and he says he loves you. What more do you want?"

"I'm not sure he - " I began, but he took both my hands in his.

"Bella, you can never be sure about things like this. You've been sad for seven months, longing for him to come back, and now that he has, _you've_ left _him_. What are you doing?"

The curtains ruffled, and I felt ashamed, and looked down, but he released my hands and took my face between his. "Now, why are you here?"

I tried to turn away, but his hands increased their hold. "Stop it, Jake!"

He shook me. "Why are you here?"

"Jake - ".

"Bella, just answer the damn question. Why are you here?"

"Because I'm a coward!" I yelled, tears springing in my eyes. He let go of me, and I wiped my tears angrily with the back of my hand.

He looked at me for a while, then nodded. "Yes. Yes, you are."

There was silence for the longest while.

"You're hiding out here because you're afraid to feel just exactly what you're supposed to feel in a crazy, impossible situation like yours. Your best friend dies, and the news piles up on everything else that's made you hurt. Now I understand that's difficult, but you don't hide away inside your own mind to stop yourself from feeling things. You're eighteen, Bells, not eighty-one. You still have things in your future you don't want to miss out on. Do you understand what I'm saying, Bella?"

I nodded hesitantly. He went on.

"It's all right to feel pain, and grief, and doubt, but you need to move on. You've been holding on to your pain for months now, and you're lucky he came back to you, but you should have moved on even if he hadn't. You're the only one who's responsible for your own happiness, you know?"

I did, and nodded again. His eyes softened.

"Good. You do remember what D.H. Lawrence said, don't you? 'The be-all and end-all of life doesn't lie in feminine happiness - or in any happiness'."

A short burst of laughter escaped from my lips. "You know, I think I finally believe that you're only a part of me," I grinned. "The real you would never have quoted from _The Lost Girl_."

"Don't be so sure," he grinned back at me. "You never know, he might have."

The storm was over, at least for a while, and we both lay silently on the stage, just holding hands again.

ooo000ooo

"So, what am I to do now?" I asked him eventually.

"You should go back."

"How?"

"Through the curtains," he said simply. I turned to look at them. They were as vast as ever, as high as the invisible ceiling.

"Or you could stay here." His voice was quiet.

"Stay here with you?"

He smiled nonchalantly. "Yeah."

I looked at him, at the best friend whom I'd lost and found again in the most unlikely place. I didn't need Jasper this time; temptation worked its way through my veins on its own, no help necessary.

But then the curtains did move, and the wind brought me reluctance. It made me see that the person here next to me wasn't in fact a person, but an empty shell I had created to mask the gaping emptiness that Jacob had used to fill. He saw the changing emotions on my face, and something changed on his as well.

"But you're not you," I mumbled sadly.

"No," he said resignedly, "I'm not." I took a look around me. The stage was so empty, the curtains so oppressive, too old and shabby and lonely a place for me to spend my eternity of limbo in.

"Yeah, you could have picked a better spot, Bells," he grinned. We stared at the ceiling again. "You might have included some decoration, at least," he went on, and we both chuckled. "Let Michelangelo have done something with that ceiling of yours." Our chuckles turned to laughter, and then died down.

"Thank you," I muttered. Our eyes met. "For all of it."

He gave me a small smile. "You're welcome." We were both lost in our memories for a moment. Then he spoke again. "I'd say 'My pleasure', but it wasn't all that pleasant after all..."

I murmured my assent.

"Don't do anything stupid like that again."

"I won't," I said. I really wasn't going to. He held my hand.

"You need to go," he said after a while.

"I know," I mumbled. The thought made my stomach churn.

He saw my distress. "Don't worry, you'll be okay. It'll hurt in the beginning, but you just give yourself some time. Remember what I've told you. You make _yourself_ happy, all right?"

"All right." I hesitated. "Where will you be?"

"I'll be with you. Wherever you are," he said with a smile.

"And Jacob?" His face fell.

"I don't know that, Bells."

I nodded again, trying to be brave but feeling like a quivering mess.

"But now, you need to go."

"But - " I spluttered, "now? You mean, _now_?"

"Yeah, now," he exclaimed. "How long do you think you have, Bella? You've been here for ages."

"But how? I can't even move properly."

"I know that. Anyway, it's really easy."

He kissed my forehead.

"Just go to sleep," he whispered, and stroked my hair. I had so much more to tell him, so many things to say, but his smiling face slowly faded and I drifted away, away from the stage and into the darkness.

ooo000ooo

It was cold.

Achingly cold. I tried to move, but my body was somehow away, out of control, absent. Time meant even less here, and it frightened me. It was dark, nothing to look at, and no Edward screaming in my head, so I had nothing to listen to. What if I got stuck here forever?

But then a wave of calm washed over me, and I knew Jasper was near me, or near to wherever my body was, at least. I let the calm do whatever it wanted, and it soothed me. Then he gave me patience, and I was patient. I'd wake up.

My awareness slowly grew. There was noise, soft and then stronger, which after a while became sounds which I did not recognize, but then I did. I heard my own breathing, and my body came back to me. The sounds grew in variety, to become murmuring voices, and closing doors, and creaking hinges. The voices formed words, and sentences that at first I did not understand, but then I did.

"Can you see anything?"

"No, nothing." I knew that voice, that whispering, agonised voice. "What does she feel?"

"Calm and patience, exactly what I sent her two hours ago."

_Two hours?_ I'd thought that happened just a few minutes earlier. How long had I actually been... here? I tried to come up with some sort of time-table, but drew a complete blank. What day had it been when Billy had called?

Grief, so familiar now, broke through my peaceful haze. _Jacob, Jacob..._ It hurt to think about him, so much I almost wished I could go back behind the curtains, but I still remembered what he'd said to me there. _'The concept is as old as the hills, Bella.'_

I wouldn't forget. I needed to wake-up. I had to.

"Bella?" His voice drew me back, and I desperately tried to move. "Bella, can you hear me?" His hand squeezed mine. I tried to answer, but couldn't find my lips. Not yet. I _would_ wake up.

I struggled to clear my head and gain control over my body. It was exasperating to lie here passively, waiting for something to happen, something to change.

"She's feeling on her own," Jasper's voice said. "Grief, impatience, exasperation."

"Good, that's good."

I wanted to touch him, to reach out and let him know I was trying, and felt my fingers, which were in his hand, twitch in response. It was a tiny movement, but he must have felt it, for he let out a strangled, short laugh that sounded more like a sob and squeezed my fingers in response.

Then his cold hand was on the side of my neck, his fingers in my hair and his thumb stroking my jaw.

"Thank you," he whispered, and I smelled his delicious scent. There was hope in his voice, a very small measure of it, but it was there. "Keep going. Come back to me."

I felt my body lie on a soft mattress, my arms listless by my side. The darkness behind my eyelids grew lighter, and I knew that if I'd open them I'd be able to see.

Slowly I did, squinting against the brightness of reality, trying to make the world come into focus. And when it did, Edward's face was all I saw. Briefly I felt joy at the sight, and then I felt everything from which I'd ran, all the pain that was my due, and I started crying, and I couldn't stop. All the tears I'd kept inside during the months after that first horrible week came bursting out.

But this time he was there.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Excerpts from _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_, by Oscar Wilde. Thank you, Oscar ;-)

My apologies for making you wait so long! It's taken me far too long to finish this chapter, I know, but my exams are over so updates will come much faster from now on.

* * *

The words were etched into my brain, yet every time I looked at them because I couldn't bear to look at her any longer, it felt as if I read them for the first time. Horribly apt, they broke through the blind panic whenever my gaze turned to them.

_For each man kills the thing he loves, _

_ Yet each man does not die. _

The small, printed letters were smudged, probably by Bella's fingertips as she'd turned the page yesterday morning. My hands clutched the tiny book that I'd somehow held on to while she'd fallen into my arms and not in the broken glass on the floor, while I'd begged her to wipe the blankness from her eyes, while I'd taken her upstairs and Carlisle had said it might take a while and I'd closed her eyes because I couldn't bear the emptiness in them any longer just as I couldn't bear to look at her now for more than a few minutes at a time. I'd been unable to let it go.

She'd given it to me, and I would keep it safe.

But by now, I'd creased its pages and curled its cover. Its sight made me cringe, and I lifted my head and looked at her. Again.

Like I'd done countless times. I was nothing but a bundle of raw nerves and frayed ends.

And she still wouldn't wake up. She didn't dream, she didn't talk in her sleep. She wasn't sleeping, but she just lay there, a small, pale, breakable puddle of human being with hands that were turning cold. So familiar, and yet so very different.

She'd changed in such an enormous way since I'd last seen her. She was silent and still, even when she was conscious, and her eyes were flat and blank. She'd scarcely looked at me straight, and she was angry, so angry at me, and justifiably so. The laughter gone from her gaze, the smile wept from her face. Pain had taken its residence there, and doubt. No joy was in her eyes, no quirky humour in her conversation, no warmth in her countenance.

She'd grown cold.

But the slow rise and fall of her chest, the gentle lifting of the small locks of her hair as she inhaled, were slightly reassuring. My eyes strayed to her face, and shied away again, finding temporary refuge in the pages of the book in my hands as they aimlessly ruffled through them and my mind shuffled through the words it had learned by heart.

_And all the woe that moved him so_

_ That he gave that bitter cry,_

_ And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats_

_ None knew so well as I_

I groaned and pulled my hair with my free hand. God damn my sole existence...

"Take a walk, Edward."

The voice was Jasper's, and I looked up at him as he stood at his usual spot by her window.

"You feel nothing from her?"

"Nothing." Doomed silence. "Yet you say that you saw her decide to come back?"

"I thought I did. She said so herself."

His voice was careful. "But you could only hear and see small parts, small fragments of her mind?"

I stared at him.

"Are you saying that she might not come back from this?"

"Look, I'm sure she -" he began, but I cut him off.

"Because I know she might not come back from this. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that's the sole thing I am afraid of?"

"Edward -"

"What would you have me do?" My voice rose in volume. "You tell me what more I can do to bring her back. I saw her mind and brought you here and we did everything, _everything_ we could think of, hurled every emotion we both have ever felt at her." Somehow I was standing, yelling at him. "She opened her eyes, and I lost her again. And now she sees nothing, feels nothing. _Tell me then_, what would you have me do?"

He regarded me coolly for a moment, his face betraying nothing.

"Take a walk, Edward."

"You take a walk," I scoffed, and sat down beside her again, returning to keep my silent vigil.

ooo000ooo

Still, so very still. And empty. The passages from the tiny book again circulated through my mind.

_The man had killed the thing he loved,_

_ And so he had to die. _

I would do everything for her. Everything, anything she wanted or needed, if I could only repair what I had done. Because nothing of her was left undamaged; here lay an underweight, possibly suicidal and literally drowning woman whose pain was the result of my disastrously wrong decisions and who looked like she could never be whole again. The things she'd said, so many years ago, it seemed...

_"Bella, I lied. I love you."_

_"You're a liar. I never thought you were..."_

Whatever was left of me, whatever was left of my purgatory soul would be forever in her service to make sure that my mistake would not cost her even more of herself.

I closed my eyes, hung my head and pulled my hair. Then I peeked up at her, her face white in the dull glow of her night light.

"Wake up," I ground out. "Just wake up and open your eyes. Don't let me do this to you."

But she already had.

Esme had tried to rouse her this morning, just enough to get her to move to the bathroom and back. She had followed her usual routine, performed every action exactly the way I remembered her doing every night before she went to bed, but she'd done it mechanically. Blank eyes, not speaking, apparently unaware of her surroundings and the people around her.

Carlisle had said it fit her diagnosis.

And that if she didn't come back from this soon, we'd have to take her to a hospital.

_ For he who lives more lives than one_

_ More deaths than one must die. _

Silence, and the sigh of her breaths, and the sigh of mine. For so long.

And suddenly a start in Jasper's thoughts.

"She's afraid," he breathed, wonder in his voice.

I stared at him in shock, then forced myself to respond.

"How afraid?"

"It's strong," he mumbled. "She's panicking."

"Then calm her down!" I exclaimed. Why was he even discussing this? I sat up straight and tried to see some change in her as Jasper sent her calm. Time passed, time, time...

"She isn't resisting this time."

I exhaled in relief. "Well done, Bella," I whispered, and took her hand in mine. "How does she feel?"

"Agitated, still. I could try some patience?"

"All right," I murmured, trying not to get my hopes up too much. I was no judge at what to do here...

"She's calmer now."

I took a deep breath as some small amount of the frustration and fear that had been building up inside me lessened, and hope blossomed anew.

And started to fade again. We waited thirty minutes, an hour, an hour and a half, and nothing changed. Her eyes didn't open.

_ And blood and wine were on his hands_

_ When they found him with the dead_

_ The poor dead woman whom he loved_

_ And murdered in her bed._

ooo000ooo_  
_

Jasper interrupted my silent despair.

"Can you see anything?" His thoughts were nearly as anxious as mine.

"No. Nothing. What does she feel?"

"Calm and patience, exactly what I sent her two hours ago."

We waited, unable to draw any coherent conclusion from that, unable to guess what was going on inside her head.

But suddenly Jasper felt grief, _Bella's_ grief, in suffocating amounts.

"Bella," I called loudly, squeezing her hand. "Bella, can you hear me?" I squeezed it a bit more forcefully. She lay just as still, but her heartbeat had changed and her breathing became faster.

"She's feeling on her own."

We looked at each other in joyous hope, then stared back at her pale face, so small amidst the cloud of her hair.

"Good, that's good," I whispered, to all of us and to no one in particular. I studied her appearance like I'd done during all these past hours, followed the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the gentle swell of her finely sculptured lips, the fine line of her jaw, her collarbones protruding from beneath her skin, the form of her shoulders as they lay hidden under her blankets, her arms on top of them, her wrists as thin as twigs.

And her fingers as they lay in my hand and twitched minutely. Joy mixed with every fear that I had nurtured escaped my body in a sound that resembled closest both a laugh and a sob. I squeezed her fingers as well, and stroked her face with my other hand.

"Thank you," I whispered to her. "Keep going. Come back to me."

Her skin was soft, and her eyelids fluttered. She was trying, she was coming back. I held my breath as I got my first glimpse of those beautiful brown eyes and prayed that they wouldn't be as blank as they'd been before.

They weren't. They focused on my face, glittering with what I could only discern as at least some measure of happiness, changing quickly to indescribable pain as the glittering overflowed and coursed down her cheeks.

"Bella," I breathed as her shoulders began to shake and she started sobbing. She looked so incredibly vulnerable and small as the tears streamed over her face, down the hollow beneath her ears and into her pillow.

I hesitated for a second, unsure of what to do, unsure if she would mind me touching her, but when her sobs grew louder and her breathing began to halt I gingerly slipped my hands behind her neck and the small of her back, pulled her upper body towards me, and folded her into my arms. She offered no resistance but leaned on me and hid her face in my shoulder while her fingers curled around the hem of my shirt.

"Bella, it's okay," I whispered to her. She didn't say anything, but continued weeping, sobbing aloud, causing Jasper to leave the room quietly, his thoughts apologetic. I didn't like it, but I knew he was right to refrain from interfering; she needed to feel this. All I could do was try and comfort her.

So I murmured countless versions of "It's all right" and "I'm so sorry" in her hair as I held her. She wept, and wept until I thought she'd never stop and this feeling of utter helplessness would be permanently etched into my soul, and then her tears flowed slower and her breathing became more regular. Her hand fisted my shirt as I softly rubbed her back, trying to release the tension I could feel in her muscles.

She let out several short breaths as if she was trying to collect herself, and asked the question that forced me to remember what I had so hopelessly been trying to forget.

"How did he die?"

Her voice was hoarse, no doubt because of all the crying, and no more than a breathless whisper in the dark. I leaned back slightly and met her eyes. My fingertips cautiously wiped the wetness from her cheeks, and I broke our connection by looking at the small night light that had been burning since night had fallen in Forks, hours ago now...

"Edward?"

Was this the first time she spoke my name aloud since I came back? I couldn't remember, but amidst all the pain I noticed a small spark of comfort bloom in my heart from hearing her say it. I looked back at her, and cupped her face with my free hand while supporting her with the other.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, and my voice broke on the last word. I didn't want to tell her, fearing her reaction, even more because Alice saw no future for her. What would it do to her when I told her the truth?

"Sorry for what?" she asked in a choked voice. I looked at her tortured eyes that no doubt mirrored my own, and silently asked her to understand, to stay with me when I told her.

"Edward?" Her eyes had grown fearful now, and I knew I couldn't _not_ tell her.

"Billy wouldn't speak to me," I began, searching her eyes for some clue as to how much she could take, "but Carlisle was able to arrange a meeting with Sam at the border. He told him that when he brought you home, Jacob smelled Victoria."

She froze in my arms, her eyes horrified.

"She came for me," she whispered.

"Yes. I'm so sorry. I had no idea..." My grip on her tightened.

"When the rest of the pack got there, she was already wounded, so it was relatively easy for them to finish her off. They did everything they could to save him, Bella, but he was already too far gone."

It was the end. Such a short story to tell, such a young life to end, and now there was silence. She looked at me in the dark, her tortured eyes full of tears. She stared as if frozen in time, but behind her eyes I could see the pain she was trying to hold at bay.

Carlisle had told me it might be like this. He'd seen the barely contained grief in the eyes of the countless families and friends of the countless people whose lives he had failed to save...

_ And as molten lead were the tears we shed_

_ For the blood we had not spilt. _

But Bella shed no more tears. I had expected her to burst out in sobs, to exclaim that it couldn't be possible, that I was lying and that he was alive and waiting for her.

She just stared straight ahead, seeing things far beyond the reach of her human eyes.

"Bella." Her empty eyes came to rest on me. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

I saw her slowly come back to the present, to me.

"So am I."

My fingers traced the dark shadows underneath her hollow eyes.

"You're tired." She offered no response. "Do you want to lie down again?"

"I don't want to lay here anymore," she mumbled, tears trickling over her face afresh. She sagged against me.

"You need to rest. Do you want me to carry you to the couch downstairs?"

"Okay," she muttered. I slipped one arm underneath her knees and lifted her, blankets and all, off the bed and down the stairs. The house was dark, but we'd kept it warm, and I quickly flitted on the sidelight that stood next to the sofa before I gingerly put her down. Her head sank to the armrest as soon as I let her go.

"I'll get your pillow," I muttered, and made sure she was safely cocooned in the blankets before running upstairs to fetch it.

When I came back, her tears were still silently falling, but she made no move to wipe them away. I carefully slipped her pillow under her head as she lifted it marginally. She lay down on her side, her gaze resting on the book on the table.

"Are you thirsty?"

She nodded.

"Water?"

"Please..."

ooo000ooo

"It should have been me."

I looked up from the tiny book which I'd been trying to stare at for the past fifteen minutes to give her the feeling I wasn't staring at _her_. Which I was, all the same. She was looking at the floor, her voice barely loud enough for me to hear, and I knew what she was going to say, dreaded it.

"He was young... I was... I was older."

"Bella -"

"You shouldn't have stopped the van."

"Bella -"

"You followed me through town. Came for me in Phoenix. You shouldn't have done it." She shook her head, and looked me in the eyes again, tears spilling now. "And when you were gone, he saved me from Laurent, and he got me out of the water. He shouldn't have."

"Bella, stop this." I tried to sound stern, speak with authority, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I had to die, but I didn't. I killed him." She let out a short breath at her twisted realisation, horrified. I stood up and knelt in front of her.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"No, you _didn't_. Stop this. _Please_."

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. We were silent for a while. I slowly brought my fingers towards her face, trying to work up the courage to touch her without her looking at me.

"What happened?"

My fingers froze in mid-air.

"With Jacob?"

I pulled my hand back. Her eyes opened, and another tear escaped.

"No..." she trailed off.

I didn't understand.

"With me," she muttered, not looking at me.

Oh.

"I don't... Carlisle will -"

"I don't want to talk to Carlisle." Her voice was quiet but determined. I looked at her in surprise for a minute, then wondered what to say, how to say it.

I only just had her back. I didn't want to think about any of it ever again, but she had the right to know...

_"She needs to know."_

I thought back to the moment when the shutters had come down. When the glass fell and her light had stopped shining inside her.

"Your eyes were open," I whispered. I could feel her looking at me as she lay, limply, on the couch, but I averted my eyes, seeing the kitchen and her pale body fall.

"I thought you'd passed out."

Broken glass on the floor.

"But your eyes were blank. I didn't..." _know what to do_. My lungs filled with a short breath. "I carried you to your room." I looked around me, not seeing the living-room at all. "It was so empty," I muttered.

I lifted my head and met her eyes.

"You've been in a daze for thirty hours, Bella."

"Thirty hours?" she whispered in a panicked voice.

"It's just after one a.m., Sunday morning," I muttered.

"Oh."

"You didn't respond, didn't speak. Didn't feel."

"How -"

"Carlisle thinks you're suffering from catatonic schizophrenia."

She frowned, the panic reaching her face now. "I don't -"

"Hear voices?"

She shook her head. "No, I... I didn't -"

"Have hallucinations?" I whispered.

We looked at each other as realisation struck her features. She scrunched her eyes closed and covered them with her hand. I laid mine on top of it, gently pulling it away. She looked so ashamed...

"Bella, I think you're going to have to talk to Carlisle."

* * *

For those of you wondering: Charlie will come back in the next chapter ;-)


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing! I hope you like the next chapter as well :-)

* * *

I used to dream of this.

After that first week, I used to dream of him coming back to me. He would tell me he loved me, and I would believe him, and be whole again.

Healed.

The hole in my chest would have miraculously disappeared on his return. The pain I'd felt in his absence would not have mattered, because he was there with me and that meant it would simply not exist any longer. His golden eyes would watch me in adoration and recognition of the girl he had left behind. She wouldn't have changed. She wouldn't be damaged.

I used to dream of this.

And, to be honest, some of it _had_ happened. He _had_ come back to me, and he'd told me he loved me. But the rest was such a mess.

Because I couldn't believe what he'd told me. And the eyes that stared at me now weren't golden, they were black. And they weren't full of love and adoration, but of anguish and of guilt.

Like I imagined mine must be as well.

Jacob was dead. Murdered. Because he'd wanted to protect _me_. The girl who should have died more than a year ago.

I should have lain pale and still in a coffin in the ground. My blood should have stopped running. And it wouldn't have done any harm. _I _wouldn't have done any harm. To anyone.

He'd died for me. _Because_ of me.

How did you move on from this? How did you get off the couch, or out of bed, and find the will to try something, to be somebody?

I'd asked Edward before I was even aware of it. He'd sat next to me as I determined to stop crying, and I'd blurted out the question. He thought about it for a few seconds, then told me how he remembered watching a memorable episode of MASH - a television series about doctors and nurses in Korea - late in the seventies. I was stunned.

"Father Mulcahy, the priest, he said that it doesn't matter whether you feel useful of not when you're moving from one disaster to another. According to him, the trick is to just keep moving."

ooo000ooo

So I tried that. It took me a few hours, but sometime during the night I started struggling to sit up. My body felt like it was made of a big, uncooperative mass of flabby rubber, limbs heavy as hell, so when I finally did manage it, I was exhausted.

"You need to eat."

Edward was watching me from across the room, hands deep in his pockets. I found myself automatically responding that I was fine, but my vocal cords had hardly produced the first vowel when he protested with a huff of frustration.

"Oh, for God's sake, Bella, don't tell me that you're fine." His eyes were flashing, and I felt the blood draining from my face. "Have you seen yourself, lately?"

I didn't answer, knowing his mood well enough by now to know I would get a word in, even if I tried. He waited for a while, but remained unchallenged, and took a step in my direction.

"You need to eat."

"So do you." It was the only response I could think of.

He straightened a bit. "Tell you what. You let me make you something to eat, you actually eat it, and I'll go hunting."

I stared at him. Bloody hell. Was he bartering my health with his own? That was hardly fair. If I didn't eat, would he starve as well? Knowing him, as I thought I'd done once, he probably would.

The bastard.

But the colour of his eyes was horrible. His face was sunken, drawn. So I nodded, and got my reward instantly, because his tortured expression, riddled with concern, was replaced by the first smile I'd seen on his face since he'd come back. He drew his hands from his pockets, looking at me almost eagerly, and as much as I was taken aback by this I suddenly hated the distance between us.

"What would you like?"

I shrugged, hugging the blankets tighter around me. "Something warm?"

He looked at this watch. "It's a bit too early for breakfast. Soup, perhaps?"

"Sure."

"Any preferences?"

"No," I mumbled, "anything's fine." I didn't mention that the thought of soup alone made me slightly nauseous.

"All right. I'll do my best then." He left the room, and I could hear him opening cupboards and rummaging with pans. Something sizzled, and the smell of onions wafted into the room.

I looked around me, at the empty room, at the clock above the fireplace. Four o'clock in the morning. Sunday, hadn't Edward said that?

Sunday. Charlie would be back today. This wouldn't go down well with him. Especially not when Edward was here when he arrived. Oh God, and found me looking like this...

He'd go berserk.

My head felt slightly woozy as I clumsily scrambled to my feet and shuffled out of the room while keeping one blanket wrapped around me. Even though the smells emanating from the kitchen made my stomach lurch, I knew Edward was right. I had to eat.

And take a shower before Charlie got back.

Edward was peeling tomatoes when I finally reached the doorway. He immediately turned towards me, his eyes raking over me top to bottom and back again before he gave a small, rather sad, smile, and drew a chair back. I sat in it, and watched him while he went back to his self-appointed task. Even amidst all this craziness, I could still admire his beauty and use it as inspiration to figure out how to reboot my common sense, regain my dignity (a hopeless task), and assemble my thoughts to form some sort of plan by which I could try and function in the future.

I drew a blank.

But at least one effect of all this was that I started to notice thing which I hadn't really seen before. I thought I'd waken up the day I'd seen those guys in Port Angeles, but now I realised I hadn't really. Now I saw what Edward was wearing, for example, and I noticed that my feet were covered in thick socks which I normally only wore in winter. I wouldn't have noticed that before.

And although Edward hadn't at first sight changed at all, something in his posture spoke to the contrary, though I couldn't quite lay my finger on any specific differences.

It was nothing special, I supposed. People changed, even people like Edward, who seemed unchanging. They lived their lives each in a different way, and when you didn't see them for any longer period of time, some of the things that had happened to them were bound to leave their mark. People changed. People died.

I cleared my throat, holding back the swell of emotion that my thoughts had conjured, and Edward looked over his shoulder.

"Will there be a service, or something?"

He stopped chopping whatever it was he was chopping, and sat down beside me, taking my uninjured hand, which lay on my lap, and squeezed it. His skin was warmer than usual.

"They did so yesterday. You know, Saturday morning."

I closed my eyes. I'd missed it. But I held my feelings under control. He would not see me shed another tear if I could help it.

"Billy wanted it done quick," he elaborated. "You know, to say goodbye. To have it over with, he said."

I nodded and opened my eyes. "Okay."

He smiled at me, desolately. "It'll get better."

I frowned, not understanding.

"Right now, you have no idea how you are ever going to get over this, but you will. You'll never forget your loss, but in time, it'll hurt less."

I stared at his eyes, so honest, and was desperate to believe him. He gave my hand one last squeeze and stood up, turning his attention back to the stove.

A few minutes passed. A few minutes in which I'd silently drowned in my grief, but he got me out in time.

"Would you like another drink?"

I nodded at him, deciding I could use it and would eat and drink everything he'd give me, even if I didn't feel like it. He never asked me what I wanted, though, but just handed me a glass full of a thick, whitish liquid. Its only ingredient I could clearly discern as I sipped it hesitantly was banana, and it felt rather heavy in my stomach. I sipped at it a few more times, then carefully put it back on the table and leaned back in my chair, watching Edward being busy in the kitchen.

"Charlie's coming back today."

His hands were for a second suspended in mid-air, then resumed their actions.

"I know," he said eventually, his back towards me. He searched the cupboards while he spoke. "We tried to contact him, but his phone was out."

"You have his number?" My voice was incredulous. Charlie had never given his number to anyone except his colleagues, Renée, and me.

Edward took the pot off the stove and put it on the table. "He gave it to Carlisle." He took a bowl out of one of the cabinets and filled it with what looked like tomato soup. "When you came back from the hospital in Phoenix." Our eyes met as he placed the bowl in front of me. "He probably thought it a sensible precaution. Please, eat."

I eyed the bowl dubiously, then slowly picked up the spoon and dipped it in the soup, fishing out a small meatball. I took a deep breath through my mouth and tried not to smell as I tentatively swallowed. After many months of eating hardly enough to keep me going, the whole thing wasn't particularly pleasant, but I could feel the warmth of the soup glowing inside me. His eyes were on me the entire time.

"Any good?"

I tried to smile. "Yes, it's really good."

Had I been alone, I would have stopped after a few mouthfuls, but every time I looked up and met his gaze - which was so full of hope and encouragement - I determined to keep going until the bowl was empty. When I finally succeeded, his smile had widened to unprecedented proportions.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. Just seeing him look happy for a while was enough for me to try and eat, and I made a silent promise to myself I'd try again very soon.

I loved his smile. I'd missed it.

"You're very welcome. It's wonderful to see you eat."

The spark of hope I'd seen in his smile had permeated his voice as well. We both looked at each other for a while, and I felt an unexpected bud of joy bloom inside me and replace a tiny portion of the grief.

"I've missed you," I confessed.

He leaned forward and cupped my cheek in his hand. "I've missed you too." He shook his head. "A lot."

"I'm glad you're back." And I realised it was true. I _was_ glad he was back, even though I didn't understand why he'd come back, or why he'd left in the first place.

"So am I. And I'm glad _you're_ back."

"But I haven't - " I began, and frowned.

He gave me a wan smile and spoke in a soft voice. "Yes, you have."

My lips parted slightly in realisation. I'd nearly forgotten my thirty hours of 'absence', and what he'd said about that. But not quite. His words had become a shadow trailing behind my every waking moment.

"Don't worry," Edward interrupted my reverie. "Carlisle will he here later this morning. He'll explain it all better than I can."

I shook my head. "I don't want to see him."

His face creased. "You said that before. Why?"

"I... I don't. I just don't."

He sighed, looked at me for a while, then cupped my face with both hands. His cold skin tingled a bit on mine.

"Please don't leave me like that again." His voice was pleading, the shift in his mood startling me. "At least please try not to, okay?"

I nodded. I had a sinking feeling that trying would be all I _could_ do. He stared at me intently for a second, dazzling me, then broke the spell.

"How do you feel?"

I blinked. "Warmer, I guess. And a bit less woozy, maybe." I stretched my limbs, gladly noting that they weren't as heavy and lifeless as before. Then I slowly drained the glass of whatever it was, and leaned back in my chair.

"Good girl," he smiled, then took the glass and started doing the dishes. I got up and tried to help him, but he wouldn't hear of it, so I decided to just take a shower and started hobbling up the stairs, slipping now and then on the edges of the blanket.

Only when I reached the landing, turned around and saw Edward flit back into the kitchen did I realise that he had silently gone up the stairs too, walking right behind me.

ooo000ooo

By the time first light shone through my bedroom window, I was semi-presentable. I had showered, washed and dried my hair, which I'd tied in a high knot, and had put on clothes that fit and matched reasonably well. I'd kept the brace dry and the cut on my head had nearly fully healed. It was all I could do.

I went down the stairs and noted that my head didn't swim anymore and my limbs weren't so weak now. I had found that while I was busy doing something, I could avoid thoughts of Jacob reasonably well, but as soon as I had nothing to do they began their suffocating journey down my throat, my lungs, my heart.

So, very soon after I sat down on the couch again, I did something I'd rarely ever done since I'd moved in with Charlie. I switched on the TV, and soon found Edward joining me. We watched trashy television until I came across a programme about travelling, and under the unfamiliar sounds of downtown Bangkok swiftly drifted away.

At first I heard the travel channel change to a different programme, and felt a blanket laid on top of me. I could hear Edward's breathing stay close to me, its rhythm slow, even, and comforting most of all. He stroked my hair, and the soothing gesture pulled me deeper, deeper down.

Until the sounds changed.

And the images came.

I knew I was dreaming all the time, yet the dream was also real, too real. It started out familiar, flashes of the forest, rain dripping against my face, dirt. My neck, two fingers pushing against the skin there, fingers that lifted and were covered in blood.

Flashes.

Of Edward, his beautiful face, his hands, my hands, my wrists. Something that shined on the kitchen counter. And a notion, an idea, a way to settle the future...

"Bella!"

He shouted my name, waking me up, shaking me by my shoulders, dispersing the images. I opened my eyes and found his face mere inches from mine. His eyes were frantic, and they looked at me strangely. I frowned.

"What are you doing?"

His expression turned cautious immediately, but the strange shimmer in his eyes remained. I had never seen it there before. He stood up, and my eyes fell on Carlisle, standing in _my_ house, like he belonged there. In his fancy clothes, playing every part of the brilliant doctor.

I drew myself up straight while he started talking, asking me how I felt. I cut him short.

"Go away."

My voice was quiet but firm, and I stood up to face him as an equal, fighting back the nausea and dizziness. His face displayed surprise, but his eyes held pain, and as they watched me I could practically see them calculating and assessing. I waited for him to speak, and he did, eventually.

"Bella, you should know - "

"I don't want to hear it from you."

Another beat of silence.

"Bella, I believe you suffer from catatonic schizophrenia." His voice had grown colder now, still friendly, but determined. It matched my own, minus the friendliness.

"So you say," I spat at him. The man had to go. I wanted him out.

"You have shown a number of symptoms that point towards - "

"You don't know anything about me." I could see that my interrupting him all the time was exasperating him, but I didn't care. Good for him.

"I know it's been difficult for you, but - "

"Do you? You mean, you were here these past months? You've kept in touch? Come to see how I was doing?" My voice was wrung with spite and scorn. Carlisle stood still, watching me, watching Edward as he came towards me and I hugged the blanket closer around myself.

"Bella," he muttered, but I ignored him and kept my gaze on Carlisle.

"Go away."

"Bella, Carlisle is - "

"He's what?"Oh, I'd had enough of this. "A father who loves his children? I'm sure he is. But he has no right to speak to me like I'm his child when his behaviour in the past has made it abundantly clear that I'm not!"

Carlisle spoke again. "Bella, I am - "

"Yes please, tell me who or what you are. Who are you to just pick everything up and disappear, leaving only a trace of lies? Who are you?" I turned to Edward. "Both of you?"

We were all silent for a moment, staring at each other. I decided I wasn't going to get an answer, and continued.

"Because really, I don't get it. Simple human as I am, I don't understand how you can be gone for seven months without giving me a second thought, and then simply come back and think you have the right to barge into my house and tell me what's wrong with me." I turned back to Carlisle. "Do you think your being vampires makes that right? That the fact that you have lived inside your own secluded circle long enough to have developed a complete disregard for the rules of common decency makes it okay to do what you've done?"

I took a deep breath and fought to keep my distance, to keep calm. It was the longest speech I'd given in months.

"You have no right to be here. I want you out."

"Not before I've said my piece." His voice was louder, determined. "You were physically immobile for over thirty hours, you were unaware of your surroundings, unable to speak. All of this points to - "

"I told you, I don't want to hear this from you."

"You heard voices - "

"Leave!"

" You've had hallucinations, as you told us - "

"Stop."

"A lack of emotions during your episode," he stepped towards me, "social isolation. Bella, it all fits." He moved to grab my shoulders.

"Don't touch me," I raised my hands in defence, but he grabbed hold of me anyway.

"Bella, you need treatment!" I started struggling to get out of his grasp, trying to look around me, searching for him.

"Edward." My voice was weak, panicked now, my earlier bravado gone. Where was he? His grip on me tightened, forcing me to look at him.

"It happened twice, it can happen again." His face was close, too close, his scent dizzying, too familiar. The room spun.

"Edward..." I tried to look for him, but I couldn't move my head. What was going on? I needed to see him. "Edward - "

"Get your hands off her."

My thoughts cleared a bit at the sound of this new voice, and our heads turned as one towards the door. Charlie stood there, his face white, but obviously furious.

"Stay away from her," he nearly growled, and Carlisle released me, and stepped back. I sank to the couch in a sudden fit of exhaustion. I looked round the room and finally saw Edward standing quite near me, watching me worriedly. I sighed in relief, and looked back at Carlisle as he again was given no chance to speak.

"Charlie, I - "

"Get out of my house."

I had never seen Charlie this angry before, nor this calculated. He eyed Carlisle with unadulterated hatred in every line of his face.

"Bella's ill, Charlie. I'm sorry to show up like this but I really think you should consider - "

"Don't you tell me what to do." Charlie stepped in front of the couch on which I sat, shielding me. "Do you know what you did to her? What all of you did to her?"

Oh God. I buried my head in my hands and prayed that he wouldn't give them any more information on how low I'd sunk during their absence. I was pathetic.

Charlie had regained his composure when he spoke next.

"Don't you ever come near her again, or I will hunt you down and be happy if I can even let you feel the smallest part of the pain you caused her."

I closed my eyes.

"Get out." Charlie's words were final.

There was a long silence, and then I heard them moving out of the room, and panic suddenly shot through me, forcing my eyes open, searching for him. He stood in the doorway, and I did the only thing I could think of.

"Edward."

I whispered his name so softly even I could barely hear it. His gaze instantly met mine, his pained eyes flitting quickly to Charlie, who seemed oblivious. He stood still for just a second, giving me time to make my final plea.

"Please come back."

My lips had barely moved, but he nodded, looking at me one last time.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think of this one, so don't hesitate to review!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you all for your reviews on the previous chapters! I love to hear what you think about all this so far.

This chapter is a bit shorter than usual. I rather struggled with the end and didn't know where to leave it, but I hope I eventually found the right place for it :-)

I know this story has been rather sad until now, but trust me, things will get better soon! It just takes some time for them to grow back to each other, and I don't want to rush it. But if you look closely, you'll see that Bella's already beginning to heal, at least in some places.

* * *

"What are they doing here?"

Charlie had been standing silently for a few minutes, staring as if entranced at the door through which Edward and his father had just left, before he barked the question at me.

I didn't respond, my mind set on different matters. He would come back, wouldn't he? He'd nodded, so that meant he would?

"Bella!" Charlie's voice was impatient, and I looked up at him.

"What?" I asked him in a small voice.

"What are they doing here?" Charlie took a step in my direction, hands on his hips, looking murderous.

"I don't know, dad." I honestly didn't.

"How long has this been going on?"

I huffed at his assumption, leaning back against the couch, closing my eyes. "Nothing's been going on," I muttered. "I told them to leave, but they wouldn't go."

Charlie didn't respond immediately, but after about a minute or so I felt the couch shift under his weight. I lifted my head and looked at him as he sat next to me. He stared at me incredulously.

"You did?" The anger had slowly seeped from him.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes." Bloody hell, why was he so surprised?

"You told Edward to leave?"

I frowned, trying to get my memories straight. "I told Carlisle for sure," I mumbled. Had I told Edward? I damn well hoped not... Charlie's eyebrows raised, making him look rather impressed. I shrugged. "I don't really remember."

"Exactly how long have they been here, then?"

I tried to think back, attach a day to everything that had happened. "Thursday morning, I think?"

Charlie let out a long breath. "For the love of..." he muttered, and in a strange display of affection grabbed hold of my hand and turned to me. "How are you?" he asked, in an unusual soft voice.

I squeezed his hand. "Jacob's," I began chokingly, and could not go any further.

"I know," Charlie muttered. "I saw Sam on the way over. He told me what happened."

I nodded vaguely. What had they told him? What was the story? Charlie cleared his throat, but didn't say anything, and I didn't either. I felt raw and open, and took some comfort in just sitting next to Charlie like a sandbag, doing nothing but just sitting. The room offered nothing of interest, except the small book that lay on the table in front of us. Charlie noticed it too and leaned forward to pick it up.

"I wanted to ask you if you read it already, but you obviously have," he muttered slightly incredulously, flicking through the creased pages trapped between the curled cover. I tried to remember why the thing looked so shabby, but found just another blank spot in my memory. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah." I gave him a small smile. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," he said, looking me over for a second. "You don't look good, Bells."

I looked down. "I know," I muttered.

Charlie hesitated. "What did Carlisle mean when he said you were ill?"

I pulled my hand out of his grasp. "It's crap, dad."

"Bella..."

"It _is_," I persisted, meeting his gaze again. "He has no business telling me what's supposed to be wrong with me when he hasn't so much as called once these past months," I exclaimed. "It's crap."

Charlie gaped at me for a moment. "Did you tell him that?" he finally asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I did."

"Well done, kid," he muttered, and stood up, clapping me on the shoulder. "You tell him what's what. Come on, I'm making you breakfast. You look too thin."

"I'm fine," I said, and stood up as well, following him into the kitchen. "I don't think I made much of an impression anyway," I offered as an afterthought, remembering how my surprisingly affluent speech hadn't actually made Carlisle leave. Only Charlie's grim threats had done that...

ooo000ooo

I went back to bed after breakfast. Charlie's cooking had been a novelty, procuring two tasty omelettes on toast within half an hour, rousing the suspicion that he had been practising. He wouldn't make any comment on it however, and I was too tired to press him on the matter.

But after two hours of lying in bed, shuffling and turning, I was still wide awake. Whenever I tried not to think about Jacob, I thought about Edward, or Carlisle, or what they'd said. My thoughts hunted me, making it impossible to escape to the comforting numbness sleep had become. Instead, I lay in the bed I'd spent too much time in already and thought about everything until I felt sick of myself and decided I might as well get up.

I opened the curtains and saw that the sun was shining again this afternoon. Perhaps it would be soothing to sit outside for a while? I pulled a thick sweater over my head and went downstairs. Edward would come back. He'd have to...

Charlie was in the living room, watching TV. He looked up when I appeared in the doorway.

"I'm going to sit outside for a minute, okay?"

He frowned. "Can't sleep?"

I shook my head, walked towards the backdoor, then back towards the living room.

"Dad?" I called, trying to capture his attention, which was already captivated again by whatever was shown on screen.

His eyes flicked to mine for just a short second. "Hmm?"

I hesitated for a while, then decided to just ask him. "Did you still love mom, even after she went away?"

My question startled him, and he sat up straight, switched the sound to mute, and looked at me. Then he leaned forward, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, I did. For a while, at least. In the beginning."

I bit my lip. It was uncomfortable and unfamiliar asking Charlie personal questions, but I really wanted to know.

"If she'd come back, do you think you could have loved her again?"

Charlie let out a deep breath, then motioned for me to come sit beside him. I did, and he rubbed his face with his hands several times before he spoke.

"I don't know, Bells. I might have." He stared at the ceiling for a minute. "I probably would have..." he added. "I loved her."

I stared at the players on the screen, their minute figures running around in seemingly pointless patterns. "I don't know what to do, dad," I muttered in a small voice.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Do you love him?" His voice was gruff, and my startled eyes met his. "Or are you in love with him?"

I buried my head in my hands. I was almost sure I loved Edward. I always had, even when he'd been away. But I had no experience with relationships or anything of the kind, so how was I to know if, after all, this _was_ just a crush?

"You need to figure that out, Bells," Charlie said when I made no response. "Because if you're just in love with him, you should realise that he treated you like a piece of junk, and his family with him."

I nodded, doubt clouding my mind.

"And in that case, you should know that I don't want you to see that boy ever again."

I looked up at him, startled.

"But if you're sure you _love_ him," he went on, his voice growing softer on the last words, "you shouldn't throw that love away. You can always be alone, Bells," he whispered, sadness in the lines of his face. "Look at your old man."

A tear leaked from my eyes. "Are you lonely, dad?"

"No," he shook his head, a little wistfully. "I got you back, didn't I?".

I gave him a watery smile and stood up. "You did." Then I remembered. "How was your trip?"

"It was good. Didn't catch that many, but still."

I nodded, looking at him a little awkwardly.

He noticed my embarrassment, stood up, and put his hands on my shoulders. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll be here, all right?"

"All right," I said softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he muttered, released me, and turned the TV back on. I made myself a mug of tea in the kitchen, and went outside.

ooo000ooo

By the time I'd settled in one of the loungers, the sun had disappeared behind grey clouds and a strong wind was blowing. I huddled deeper into my sweater, trying to get lost inside it, and looked at the tops of the trees and the sky above them.

I tried to relax, but after a while my gaze was inevitably drawn towards the forest line itself. I saw the beginning of the path where he'd taken me before he left, the path where I thought my life had ended, and found I couldn't look away. My gaze glided over Charlie's garden, the lawn, the street, but it always ended up on that dark path.

This wasn't the sensible thing to do.

The sensible thing to do was to go inside, grab a book and read it while sitting next to Charlie on the couch. The sensible thing to do was to calmly find a way to rebuild my life and shy away from any experiences that pulled me over the edge again.

Experiences such as the one which undoubtedly awaited me now that I had reached the path and ventured along it.

This wasn't the sensible thing to do. I knew that. Yet I wanted it.

I yearned to see the exact same spot where all this trouble had sprung from. I longed to feel the pain I'd felt and somehow realise that this time, _this time_, it was different. This time, there would be hope.

Hope of him returning. And of a happy life with him.

But I froze when I recognised it. It all looked exactly the same, the trees, the clearing, the forest-floor.

And I couldn't look away. The likeness between this place and the one I'd preserved in my memories was horrifying, shouting at me that I was a fool to believe anything was different now. Everything was still the same, and that could mean only one thing.

He'd leave again.

But my knees didn't buckle.

I didn't gasp in pain, burst out in sobs, or swirl into a numbing darkness. My breaths were even, my heartbeat regular, my eyes dry. The realisation that Edward was going to leave again froze me, paralysed me, but it didn't show.

I just died inside.

When the rain started to fall my body grew cold, but I hardly noticed. I already felt much, much colder where my heart beat against my ribcage, where my lungs wheezed with air. I just let the water seep through my hair, my clothes, over my cheeks, down my nose in steady drips.

And made a decision.

It formed in my mind while I stared at the spot where he'd stood, while I imagined the feeling of his lips on my forehead, the lingering sensation of a kiss that might have been our last. And the wind as it brushed against my face, through the trees and their leaves.

I'd do everything I could to keep Edward with me. I wouldn't stay mad, I'd try to make him happy, be what he wanted me to be. I'd hide my fear the best I could, keep it hidden deep inside me.

And prepare myself for when it happened again. I'd have to make plans, and soon, because he could leave tomorrow if he wanted to, or today. He could have left already.

I didn't know if this was a wise decision, but it was mine. And if I did all this, I'd find at least some sort of peace, some measure of happiness.

My sweater was getting heavy with all the water, so I tugged at it, strands of my soaked hair slapping against the back of my neck as I pulled it off over my head.

"Bella?"

The voice stopped me in my tracks. It was uncharacteristically hesitant, shy almost, but I knew immediately to whom it belonged. I turned towards it, and saw her standing a few feet away from me, the place where Edward had run off to.

It was Alice, and my eyes travelled over her form. She was perfect, giving me a perfect small smile, baring blindingly white teeth behind lovely curved lips, her skin shimmering flawlessly, her hair dry under a black umbrella. The water, briefly interrupted by the sweater, started dripping off my nose again, drawing my attention to the sorry state that I was in. The comparison between her and me made me want to weep.

Alice seemed to wait for me to say something, but I stayed silent, trying to determine how I felt about seeing her, talking to her. To gain some time, I gave her a small smile in return. She took a step towards me, and I tensed, almost involuntarily. She stopped moving, her smile faltering.

"Hey Bella."

I swallowed. "Hi." My voice was croaky again, no doubt because of the cold and the rain.

"I've missed you."

I looked down, folding my wet sweater in my arms and holding it against me. My shirt was already just as wet.

"Here." Alice stood closer to me now, and she held out her umbrella.

I shook my head, wanting her to keep it. "I'm already wet," I mumbled, and met her eyes. "You look so nice." I looked down at my feet again, trying to hide the shame that swamped me.

"How have you been?" she asked me in her soft voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned around. I couldn't do this. Couldn't talk to her when I was such a mess. I needed to figure things out before I could handle having her back in my life. A life she'd left so easily...

"I can't talk to you, Alice," I whispered. I opened my eyes and started walking back down the trail, towards the house.

"Bella," she called after a few seconds, and I stopped, and turned around. She hadn't moved, and I saw her hesitating before she spoke in a rushed voice. "Please don't hurt yourself."

My blood tingled in my veins as I stared at her, dumbstruck. She'd seen me, doing whatever I had subconsciously already planned for when he left. I bit my lip, unable to decide what to say, and looked around once more, at that horrible place and the beautiful girl that stared at me with such a strange expression in her eyes. Something was familiar about it, but exactly what that was eluded me for the moment.

"Please?" she begged.

I swallowed, and looked at my feet. "Thank Jasper for me, okay?" I looked at Alice. "For what he did when I was..." _behind the curtains_. "Tell him I'm grateful for what he did and that I'm sorry for what happened in September?"

Alice nodded, a rather helpless expression on her small face. The silence stretched between us, until I said the one thing I could think of.

"Is he going to stay?"

Our eyes met.

"Yes. He loves you, Bella."

Something in her voice, the way she spoke the words, made it impossible to doubt her. "Will you warn me when he plans to leave?"

"He won't."

"Yeah," I muttered. "But you will?"

She frowned at me, then nodded.

"Thank you." I turned again and walked away.

ooo000ooo

I met Jacob in a place I'd never been before, but Charlie's sun loungers were there. Jake sat in one of them, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his skin glistening in the sun like gold. I sat down beside him and took his hand, which he'd held out the moment I'd joined him.

"Hey Bells."

"Hey Jake. Good to see you again."

"Yeah," he agreed, and looked around him. I did the same.

We were in a small secluded garden, gravel at our feet, hedges all around us, a stone fountain in the centre.

"Scenery's improved," he commented dryly.

I nodded. There was something familiar about this place. I'd seen it before, but couldn't quite say where.

"Oh crap," I muttered, and looked at Jacob's grinning face. "I've made this up. This whole thing is happening entirely in my head."

He nodded, grinning even more. My heart sank.

"I'm not having another..." _episode, hallucination, whatever you'd call it?_

"Nah," he yawned, and laid back in his lounger. "You're just asleep, Bells."

"Oh." I was slightly taken aback. This was just a dream... How mundane.

"That's good, really," Jacob said. "Means you just have to wake up."

"Hmm."

We enjoyed the sun for a while, though we couldn't really feel it warming our skin. There was no wind. Just us, and our beating hearts.

"How are you?" I asked him eventually.

He raised an eyebrow. "Dead. How are you?"

I grinned. "Going crazy, apparently."

He laughed. "Heard you told the doctor what's what again."

"I did," I said, proud as a child.

"But not Edward."

My face fell. "No. Not Edward.

"Why not? I think he deserves it."

"I don't want him to leave," I muttered. "I can't yell at him like I yelled at Carlisle and expect him to stay."

"But you're just as mad at him?"

"Yeah, I am."

"It's unhealthy to keep all that in."

"A dead man would know," I rolled my eyes. "Really, I think Edward realises that what I told Carlisle goes for him as well. He was always the one to shoulder the blame for everything."

"His girlfriend would know," he said sarcastically.

"I'm not his girlfriend," I exclaimed.

"Oh really?"

I said nothing. Time passed in silence.

"Well," he said.

"Well," I conceded.

"And Alice?"

"What about her?"

"Yeah, what about _her_?"

"I don't know," I confessed, and met his eyes. He nodded encouragingly. "I've lost them all once, I can't lose them again."

"You don't know that they'll leave again, Bells."

"But they can. And they did." So easily. "I can't let them get close to me and have it hurt that much more when they'll be gone."

"But you're willing to risk all that with Edward."

"I'm willing to risk all that with Edward."

"Well then," he said.

"Well then," I conceded.

And we both said nothing for a while.

"Because you love him?"

"Yes." Without a doubt, with everything I was.

"Then he was a fool for leaving you."

I shrugged. "He might not love me anymore."

"But you think he still does."

"He might. Perhaps. He said he does."

"But he's a liar."

"Yes. He is." We both knew that. No sense in denying it.

"But he's said two opposite things, so he must have been telling the truth once."

"But when?" I muttered. Indeed, but when? When he told me he didn't love me, or when he told me he did? Perhaps, if I let myself hope, I could believe it was the latter.

We both raised our faces towards the sun, and I felt a rare moment of unspoiled peace.

"Well then," he said.

"Well then," I conceded.

"This is a nice place."

I smiled. "Yes, it is."

* * *

Thanks for reading! It would be great to know what you think of this, so if you feel like it don't hesitate to review! ;-)

Oh, and just to let you know: next chapter will be in Edward's POV.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Well... **Finally!** I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long! This chapter has been really hard to write for me... I wanted to let Edward grow in this part, but you know him, he always makes everything so difficult ;-) Hope you'll like it nonetheless.

Thank you all for still reading this story, and for your reviews on the last chapter! It's great to read what you think of this.

* * *

Up until then, I'd kept it all.

I'd kept my composure when I saw her face, felt her body in my arms and noticed how much less there was of it.

I'd kept calm when she told us she'd drowned herself to hear my voice, and drowned again.

I'd kept my mind working as she'd slipped beneath the surface, and hadn't come up for air on her own.

I'd kept searching for a way out of hell on earth when she'd left me, and held hands with another. Told him she loved him.

I'd kept a straight face when her father came home and showed me what I'd done. When I'd thought I'd seen the worst of it and I realised I'd only just scratched the surface.

I'd contained every emotion, every thread of dread, and kept it all safely locked inside.

Safely locked away from her. And for me to feel, for me to deal with.

Up until the moment where I closed the door behind me. And lost it all.

All but the strength in my muscles, the speed in my legs, willing myself forward. Paying no attention to where I was going, colliding with trees, rocks, bushes, and not giving them a backward glance.

I ran.

I ran from the deafening roar inside my brain, this festering horror in my mind shaped by images I knew I could never forget. I ran until the world became nothing but a blur of green and black, a darkness without shape.

Until her voice - clear as if she were running right beside me - called to me, reprimanded me like only she could. No accusation, but a statement.

_You're running from me_, she muttered quietly. I closed my eyes and saw her face, looking at me in dismay. _Again_.

I roared in frustration and lurched to a halt, bound by her even when she weren't real.

"I'm not," I yelled at her, smashing my fist against a tree trunk, making it crash down on impact.

She looked down, but said nothing.

"I'm not," I yelled again, my voice hollow in the dense darkness, and opened my eyes, unwilling to see her disbelieving face any longer. Then the wind shifted, obliterating any thoughts I might have had left, and I ran again, further, further away from her, and towards something else.

Towards blood.

I did not care where it came from, to what kind of animal it belonged. I just ran towards it, and made sure it did not escape. I did it again, and again, and again, crashing into animals and trees like there were no differences between them, forcing my teeth through bone and sinew, and drank, drank, drank. I drank more than ever before, and yet the thirst did not lessen, the horror did not fade.

The images only grew more gruesome. Not because they changed, but because my mind, growing clearer with every drop of blood I swallowed, processed them in ever more detail. I saw everything the images could contain, every hint of information about what her life had been like.

Every line in her face, every tear she shed, and every bit of anguish and worry it had caused her father. Endless flashes of pain, of memories he had stored away perfectly and kept for me to see. I ran into flesh and bone, and feasted, and sank to my knees, clawing at my skin, roaring in anger.

Until the thirst finally did lessen, and I knew that it was over. The mindless pursuit of blood was over, and at the end of the line there lay despair, waiting patiently. I was breathing heavily, coming back to myself, hearing the silence there was outside my own inner turmoil, the quiet whisperings of the forest. I saw shapes in the darkness again, trees and leaves, the raindrops that spattered the earth on which they fell.

And the trail of dead animals I left behind, bruised, broken in my wake.

Violated.

Slowly, moving like an old man, I pushed my fingers in the earth in front of me, removing two handfuls at a time. I repeated the same movements over and over, until the stag that lay beside it, mangled and crushed, could fit inside it.

Could _rest_ inside it. Under a layer of the earth it had lived with.

I moved to the next one, following my own trail, repeating the process.

Digging.

Pulling their bodies towards me, into the hole.

And covering them up.

The next one, and the next. An endless cycle, digging, filling, closing their graves. Standing up. Walking further back, to the next one. Avoiding their eyes. Slowly coming back to where I came from.

By the time I got to the last one, my hands were dirty with earth and blood, and with them, I started digging. My pace slowed down even more, and halted for a second when white hands suddenly joined my black ones.

I hadn't even heard him coming.

He did it quicker than I did, using his strength, not detesting it. When we were done, he stood up, and held out his hand to me.

Although I wasn't worthy, I took it nonetheless, and he pulled me on my feet. He looked in my eyes for a moment, and I wondered what he saw there.

"Come home," he said softly. I started shaking my head, but he interrupted me. "She went to bed," he answered my unspoken thoughts. "Let her rest for a while."

I closed my eyes and saw her face, smiling at me indulgently. It was ironic that the Bella in my mind hadn't changed at all, while the 'real' Bella had changed in so many different ways.

_Go_, she mouthed at me. _I'll be here_.

"All right," I said softly, both to her and him. She needed to sleep, so I followed Carlisle as he slowly led me back to the house. His hand was on my shoulder, friendly but decided, unwilling to let me go. It took us far longer than usual, probably because of my decrepit state, but we kept quiet until I could find a sensible thing to say.

A question I actually wanted the answer to.

"Can Alice see her again?" My voice was hollow, even to my own ears.

"She sees her a bit clearer now, though she still only sees flashes."

"She's near her house?"

"Yes. She'll keep an eye on her."

"Good." I couldn't leave her if I thought she were alone.

We walked up the steps to the front door, and there we halted. He turned towards me.

"Edward, we need to talk about this."

"Carlisle, I can't do this right now. She's... I'm not - "

"She's sick, Edward. And she won't talk to me, let me near her. We need to make a plan."

"Yes," I muttered. "But not - "

"Soon then," he interrupted, regarding me impatiently.

I nodded.

"All right."

He released my shoulder, and walked inside.

I hesitated for a while outside, then walked through the doorway. Esme stood in the middle of the room. I couldn't look at her when I had disappointed her so very much, and made to walk past her.

"Edward," she called, and I stopped to face her. Her eyes were full of compassion, not of disgust as I had feared, and would have deserved.

"You hurt her, but you're a good man."

I made a choking sound. "How can you - ?"

"You made a mistake," she exclaimed, stepping towards me and taking my face between her hands. "You tried to do what you thought was best. Even though it was a mistake, and you hurt her, that does not make you a bad man."

I shook my head and pulled away, walking up the stairs. "It doesn't work that way," I muttered, knowing she would hear me, and entered my bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The son of a bitch stared at me through the mirror, looking the same as ever. I stared at him in disgust.

"Arrogant, stupid asshole," I sneered. "What the hell have you done?"

My reflection just stared back, an assembly of all the features of the face that was so alluring to humans.

"Edward?" Esme's soft voice issued from behind the door. "Are you okay?"

I didn't answer, but smashed my fist against the mirror, disgusted by the sight of myself. The glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces held together by the frame, distorting my reflection and resembling the monster lurking within. Numerous pairs of eyes glared at me, animosity radiating from their depths.

And pain.

But the eyes that stared at me were golden, not black. The smudges beneath them had faded in a matter of minutes after I'd hunted. And the creature that stood in front of the mirror remained unharmed. I was easy to repair, so the harm I'd done wasn't seen in my own reflection, but in those of the innocent. Not a scratch marred _my_ body, not a shadow clouded _my_ face. Everything I'd done had left its mark on Bella, every decision - _mistake_ - I'd made had harmed _her_.

I closed my eyes and saw her face again, smiling at me in a peaceful, serene way. She'd smiled like this before I'd left her, when she woke up and found me lying by her side.

She hadn't smiled like that after I broke her. Charlie's memories, next to my own experiences, were confirmation enough of that. Sometimes the corners of her mouth lifted, but her face, her eyes, remained full of pain. She never looked peaceful, never happy, like I'd meant for her to be. Like she deserved to be.

My fist found the mirror again, and the glass trickled like dust down my arm and into the sink beneath it.

Not a scratch marred my knuckles.

"Damn you," I muttered.

ooo000ooo

When I'd showered, washed my hair and put on a clean shirt and trousers, I'd grown somewhat calmer. Able to think a bit clearer again, I sat down on the couch in my room and tried to make up my mind on what to do now, how to fix this.

But I stopped myself as soon as I began to draw conclusions from what I'd seen, and making decisions based on them. I'd seen her bleed last September, and concluded that because of what happened then, she wasn't safe with us, with me.

And I'd never made a decision that had proved to be more disastrous than the one I'd made next.

I had left to make her happy, to keep her safe, and the result of my decision had been exactly the opposite. She had been happy and relatively safe before I left, but my need to control everything had cancelled out her happiness, her safety. Her health.

The images of Charlie's memories flashed through my mind again.

For seven months, she'd screamed in her sleep, had been plagued by nightmares. She'd shied away from everything that used to bring her joy; the books she'd read, the music she'd listened to. She'd kept on going just for show, for the sake of her father, who knew very well that her happiness wasn't real, her smiles only forced.

And at the end of the line, she'd jumped off a cliff.

I shuddered as I tried to imagine what that must have looked like, her body falling in the depths, her limbs tossing in the water. Had she tried to swim, to come up for air? Or had she merely let herself be drawn deeper, deeper down, unwilling to live a life that wasn't enough for her?

_Stop. _

This was an assumption. Something that had formed in _my_ mind, while I had no idea what had been going on in hers. My mind was faulty, the decisions made in it had proved wrong.

She'd said she hadn't done it to kill herself, and so I should take her word for it.

And I would have, if not for the small voice in the back of my head that warned me about the one thing I had forgotten.

_What about her dreams?_

She'd fallen asleep in front of the television, and I had seen the idea forming in her mind. _A way to settle the future_, she'd thought. I choked with dread as I saw again how - in her imagination -fingers that I had recognised to be mine pressed into her neck, desperate to feel a pulse, and only found the blood there that refused to flow. The kitchen knife that lay -

My phone vibrated in my pocket, dispelling the images. I flicked it open.

"Calm down, Edward," Alice's voice entreated me before I could utter a greeting. "She hasn't decided yet."

"Yet," I repeated, panicked. "Christ, Alice!"

"Look, I agree, you're both in a bad place right now. I saw her just now, and she's at wit's end, Edward. But that doesn't mean she can't heal. She _has_ to heal, and the easiest way for her to do that is if the man she loves is by her side, and not beating himself up with the guilt he feels for leaving her. That won't do her any good."

I jumped to my feet and strode out of my bedroom. "You saw her? Why? I thought she was sleeping."

"She tried, I think. She told Charlie she couldn't."

"Then where did you see her?"

"Outside. You'll meet me there in four minutes," she said, sounding slightly absentminded.

"Outside?" I walked out the door and looked up at the sky. "It's pouring with rain!"

"I know, Edward," Alice sighed. "What was I supposed to do? Tell her to go inside? What do you think that would have done to her?"

I tried to picture it as I ran, phone at my ear. "You're right," I muttered, "you're right. What did she say?"

She sounded hesitant as she answered. "Not that much, really. " She paused. "She didn't want to talk to me."

"What?" I frowned. I didn't understand her anymore.

"Well, she said she couldn't, actually."

"Okay." It wasn't okay at all. "I'm nearly there."

"I know."

I heard her thoughts before I saw her standing alone, under a black umbrella, in the forest just a stone's throw away from the house. Bella's heartbeat was clear, and the sound of it made some of the dread and panic flow away, like it always did.

"Hey," I muttered, looking not at Alice, but at Bella's bedroom window.

"She's sleeping," Alice corroborated. "Finally."

I turned to my sister, eyeing her umbrella, raising an eyebrow. "Afraid to get your hair wet?"

She rolled her eyes. "No... I saw her getting drenched, so I thought I'd take it for her. But she didn't want it."

An image of Bella, wet all through, flashed through her mind. _You already look so nice. _I raked a hand through my hair.

"She looks like hell, Edward."

Alice was looking at me, her eyes boring into mine.

"Yes," I said.

"She wants to hurt herself."

I froze. "You've seen it?"

Alice's brow furrowed. "Yes, well... not exactly. She hasn't really decided how she's going to do it, but she's decided _that_ she's going to do it."

I looked down, trying to keep the blind panic at bay. Like Alice had said; that wouldn't do her any good. So I looked at the rain while it spattered mud on my shoes, against the seam of my trousers, and composed myself. Then my eyes met Alice's again.

"Can you see when?"

This time she looked away. "No," she said quietly.

I nodded, and looked around me, suddenly recognising just where we were.

"This is where we said goodbye," I whispered, horrified.

"Oh," muttered Alice. "I thought I'd seen it before somehow..."

"This is where you met her?"

"Yes."

I saw her standing there in Alice's mind, in the middle of the small clearing, pulling off her sweater.

"Will it be okay if I go to her now? She asked me to come back, but I..."

"I can't really see," Alice said, irritated. I'd been afraid of that.

"Is Charlie still inside?"

"No, he just left. Can't see where though..." she trailed off.

I sighed, and both of us stared at the house that contained the girl we both loved so much. Why had she come here? What was she thinking?

"Well, I'm off," Alice announced after a while.

"You'll tell me when you know when?"

Our eyes met, and she looked at me sadly. "Yes." She shrugged, helpless . "Of course."

"Thanks." I made to walk towards her house, but suddenly remembered a most important thing.

"Alice? "

"Yes?"

"Please, don't let me see?"

She shook her head. "No," and she gave a small, wan smile in response. "No. Of course not."

ooo000ooo

When I'd climbed up through her window and into her room, the only two words I could think of were _déjà vu_. There she lay on her bed, sheets tangled around her legs, her hair and clothes drenched, her skin as pale as mine.

Déjà vu indeed. The only difference here was that I knew exactly where and when I'd seen all this before. My jaw clenched and my hands fisted at my sides in an attempt to contain the flaming amount of exasperation I felt at seeing her in this state. Again.

Back to where we started from.

_What the hell_ had she been doing?

I strode to her side to wake her up, to end this stupid, reckless behaviour that apparently was all the rage with her, but the sudden twitch of her fingers, the soft whisper that lingered on her lips, stopped me.

Was she dreaming?

She mumbled something incoherent, like she always did when she was dreaming, but that was the only clue I got. I saw no hazy images, no meaningful conversations, no blurry flashes.

Frustration met exasperation as I watched her sleeping form. The only gateway I'd ever had to her thoughts, and it had closed on me.

And suddenly nothing but a lingering, age-old sadness filled my heart, dispelling the rumble of all those emotions that these past few days had conjured up. All of a sudden, it all seemed very simple.

I sat next to her on her bed, and carefully touched her shoulder, willing her to wake. Her heart stuttered, her breathing hitched, and her eyes opened, finding mine with ease.

"Hi," I whispered, watching her face for any clue as to what she might be thinking, feeling. Her lips curved in a small, soft smile.

"Hey, " she whispered back, stretching her limbs underneath the blankets and drawing my attention to the one aspect of her that I had actually overlooked during the chaos of the last few days. Because whatever else had changed about her, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. I smiled back.

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly. "I didn't want to wake you, but you were... well..." I drifted off lamely.

"You've hunted." Her voice was full of wonder, sharp and clear as glass, and it made me try my best to keep the acid out of my voice when I responded.

"Yeah. I did." Good old me... Here she was, underweight and very probably suicidal, but at least _I _ was wearing the brunt of my decision well. Yet my expression and tone must have been less neutral than I'd thought, because a frown was on her lovely face.

"Is it okay, me being here?" I eventually asked her to break the silence. "I mean, you asked me to come back, but I didn't know exactly when, or in what manner, so..."

I waited expectantly for her answer, but she just looked at me while her frown grew a little deeper.

"I could come back later?" I prompted, and her face suddenly smoothed.

"Oh, no, um... it's okay."

She sat upright, put her pillow up against the headboard of her bead, and sat back again. And I realised she wasn't going to send me away... The thought made my smile widen.

But my smile faltered, and my relief grew thin when I reminded myself why I'd woke her up.

"What?" she asked, probably puzzled by the changing emotions displayed on my face.

My hand raked through my hair of its own accord. "You know," I smiled desperately, "this is exactly how I found you."

Her eyebrows lifted on her forehead. "How's that?"

"You're cold, and your clothes are wet."

She raised the blankets and took a look at herself. "Oh," she said again, sounding surprised.

"You'll catch a cold like this." I tried to keep the disapproval and exasperation out of my voice.

"Or pneumonia," she muttered, and rolled her eyes, proving the pointlessness of my effort.

"It's not a joke, Bella," I exclaimed. "You could at least _make an effort_ to try and take care of yourself."

"Oh, I try, Edward, don't you worry," she glared at me. Our moods had shifted 180 degrees in a matter of seconds, the atmosphere in the room seemed to have dropped several degrees.

"You know, jumping off cliffs and trying to give yourself pneumonia aren't efforts to keep yourself safe. They're efforts to hurt yourself."

"I didn't jump off that cliff to kill myself, if that's what you're saying." She wasn't shouting, she didn't get red with anger, she didn't cry. She just looked at me straight, spoke quietly, and the only emotion I could discern in her voice was hurt.

"I'm sorry... I - "

"No, you don't get to be sorry." Her voice and eyes were cold again, like the first time we'd had a fight after I came back. "And you don't get to be angry with me about how I chose to live my life after you'd left it. You didn't care for seven months, you don't get to care now."

I felt like she punched me a second time. No physical pain, but tons of emotional anguish. She tugged at the blankets, covering herself up with them, while I looked at her and tried to find some sign in her actions that signified she hadn't meant what she'd said. I couldn't find it.

"Do you honestly believe that for the past months I didn't care if you were safe, unharmed, alive, Bella?"

"You weren't here."

Right. How could I compete with reason like that?

She sighed, plucking the edges of the blanket wrapped around her. "I've been trying my best, all right?" Somehow, she seemed ashamed. I took her hand, stopping her fingers from their nervous circuit. She looked up.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frightened all of a sudden.

She seemed to deliberate for a second, then muttered something that sounded like 'all right', and took a deep breath.

"I've been trying my best, but I've been living inside my head these past months, Edward." She leaned forwards and buried her head in her hands. "Everything gets tangled up in there, you know what I mean? The things that happen in my real life brew and stew here," she looked at me, pressing her forehead with her fingers, "until they lead a life of their own, twisted and morphed into something that doesn't resemble reality at all anymore. I've been sitting here for the last seven months, useless, living of memories and heartaches and regrets, and then you come along, and suddenly something _real_ happens again, and I don't know how to deal with it."

She fell silent, and the expression she regarded me with was nothing short of fearful.

"What are you afraid of?" I breathed.

She looked down. "I'm afraid to go back there. Where nothing exists and I can just pretend to be somebody, while I'm really just wasting away. I'm afraid to wake up one day, after living inside my head for months, and find I'm all alone again."

"I won't leave you."

She shrugged, a lone tear leaking from the corner of her right eye. "You will, Edward. Like you said, I'm no good for you."

"I lied," I blurted out.

"Yeah," she nodded, raising her eyebrows and smiling slightly, like it was all very ironic.

"I won't leave you again," I persisted.

"Really, look at yourself," she snorted, though it sounded sad more than anything else. "You're all messed up, because of me. Me! Look at me. I'm a mess."

"What are you saying?" I breathed. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No," she muttered, looking down at her hands. "I'm saying that I'm not worth your trouble, Edward."

"That's right," I agreed, and she looked up at me, startled. "Because you're worth much more. I love you, Bella. You're the love of my life - existence, or whatever. And it doesn't matter that you're a mess. Like you said, I'm a mess too! But I love you, and we can work it out together. We can rebuild our lives together."

She sat frozen, like a rabbit caught in the spotlight, and stared at me with big, brown eyes that seemed suspended in time. Carefully, I smoothed several locks of her hair away from her face, my fingers lingering on her skin.

"I won't leave," I added earnestly. "And I know you don't believe me, and I understand that, because I lied to you, and I betrayed you, and broke your heart. But Bella, you said that you needed time, and now all I can say is, I need more time as well. I need time for you to trust me again, I need time to convince you I love you, and believe me when I say it."

Tears had started to fall down her cheeks while I spoke, and I paused to wipe them away while looking at her eyes all the time, willing her to see the sincerity in mine.

"So please, Bella, give me, give _us_, some more time. Because we need more time. We need more time to grow, to have the relationship we were meant to have, share the love we were meant to share. Things are broken now, but I have to believe we can fix it. I can fix it, if only you'll let me. If only you can let me back into your life, and grow to trust me again. I love you, and I'll never leave you. I will do my best to make you happy. But please, give me the chance to do that, to try and make things better."

I waited for her reaction anxiously, but all she did was wipe her tears away with the corners of her blankets.

"Please," I pleaded, "give me time to figure out how to do all that. Please, say yes. Say yes to me, say yes to us. I can't make things better if you send me away."

I waited for the longest while as she stared at me and I fought against the despair that crept up on me. No premature conclusions...

Then she finally nodded, more tears escaping her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, so soft I barely heard it.

"Yes?" I repeated, praying that I'd heard it right.

"Yeah," she muttered, sounding slightly apologetic before I exploded with relief and joy, pulled her towards me and folded her in my arms, making her emit a tiny squeak as she buried her head against my chest. Her scent surrounded me, the scent I'd missed for so long, and my arms tightened around her, never wanting to let her go.

We sat like that for the longest time, basking in that rare warmth of love, and forgiveness, until she shivered.

"All right." I tried to convey in those two words that it _was_ all right, and if it wasn't that I'd do my damnedest to _make_ it all right again. "Why don't you put on some dry clothes before all that?"

She shifted in my arms and leaned back to look at me

"Before what?" Her eyes questioned me more than her words did, and I saw the uncertainty, the doubt in them.

I knew I couldn't take it all away, but I would never stop trying. I gave her a small smile.

"Before we worry about any of the rest."

* * *

*sigh*

Really, I've tried my best as well. This has been a horror to write :-p


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to all of you for your reviews on the previous chapter! They made my day (and week)!

This chapter is a bit different, compared with the ones before. It's taken me quite some time to post, but I hope the fact that it's really rather long offers some consolation ;-) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you'll like this chapter too.

* * *

_To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special._

Jim Valvano

ooo000ooo

Many things can change during the course of a week. And so many things _had_ changed, even in a life as small and unimportant as mine.

I'd lost Jacob in a week that started out like any other. He'd fought against the current on Thursday morning, and he'd died in the afternoon. He'd been alive on Monday, and dead on Friday. A life like that should have taken years to be extinguished, but it had happened in the blink of an eye.

I hadn't even seen it happen, hadn't consciously experienced the last seconds of his existence. To me, he'd been alive before I'd answered the phone, and dead after.

Seconds.

In mere seconds, I'd lost Jacob, and got Edward back. He'd been God knows where one moment, and in my room the next.

He'd been unattainable for three days, but became mine after a speech that must have lasted less than ten minutes.

For seven months, I'd had no family outside of Charlie and Renée, but in the course of four days I'd met at least three members of my former one.

Things had stayed the same for so long, and then they'd changed so fast, it was hard to keep up. It had been a legendary week.

And at the end of that legendary week, I'd said yes. I'd said yes to time, to Edward, to us, because somewhere deep inside me, I'd still had hope. I'd hoped that the next week would be different, better, a week to move forward.

ooo000ooo

_Monday_

Touches.

A cold finger brushing my cheek, bringing me to the edge of awareness. I was warm, and comfortable, in a haze of slow delight.

The finger traced the lines below my eyes, tingling my skin. So careful as it brushed my forehead, like I might bruise at the slightest contact.

Touches.

Tracing my eyelids, my nose, so soft you almost couldn't feel it.

But I did. And I savoured the feeling of cold skin brushing my lips, first one, then the other, unwilling to wake up and dispel the magic.

My lips parted so I could breathe better, and immediately the finger was gone, leaving behind a tingling trail of longing. I opened my eyes to see where it had gone, and the sight that met me made it impossible to believe that waking up like this was anything less than heaven on earth.

Edward sat on the edge of my bed, the image of male perfection, and I smiled at the contrast between this moment and the one when Charlie had woke me up this morning. He'd burst into my bedroom at six a.m., took my temperature without asking, just like he'd done last night, and decided that I wasn't going to school today.

"No excuses," he'd grumbled, and left for work.

Compared to Edward waking me up, Charlie was nothing short of a bulldozer.

"Hey," he greeted me softly. "What are you smiling about?"

"Bulldozers," I muttered sleepily, and rubbed my eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly three in the afternoon," he smiled, and stroked my hair. Then he put the palm of his hand flat against my forehead. "Your fever's gone down."

"Good," I muttered, remembering how Edward had freaked out last night because my skin was 'warmer than usual', and had endlessly repeated numerous variations of 'I told you so'.

"I told you so," I mumbled for good measure, and watched how his smile showed through his eyes as well. How enjoyable it was to tease him...

"Didn't you go to school?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. Not when you're ill. And I haven't enrolled yet."

I yawned, stretched my legs, and lay on my side, fluffing up my pillow with my good hand. Though I'd never admit it to Edward, I kind of liked being ill. At least, I liked it when he was here to wake up to and lie next to. Apart from the obvious discomforts - which weren't all that horrible to begin with - it sure was a nice way to spend a day...

"Are you hungry?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Well, you should drink something. Do you think you can get up, or should I bring it to you?"

"No, no," I sighed, "I'll get up. I need the bathroom as well..."

Edward hovered by my side as I clambered out of bed and shuffled towards the door. "I'll get you something to drink," he muttered, and went down the stairs with such easy grace it seemed like he was floating. I entered the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

But when I'd finished and was washing my hands, I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and groaned.

Immediately, his voice came through the door, thick with concern. "Bella?"

I didn't answer, but watched the face in the mirror twist with mortification. Hair resembling a bird's nest, dark shadows beneath my eyes, grey skin to boot... Bloody hell, I looked like an old dishrag next to him...

"Bella, are you all right?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape my reflection, and gave a small embarrassed squeak.

Edward stood in front of me before I'd even heard him open the door. "What's wrong?" he breathed, cupping my cheeks in his hands. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I piped up in a small voice. Stepping back, out of his grasp, I hid my face in my hands. "I'm hideous," I muttered ashamedly.

"What?"

"I said I'm hideous."

"Hey," he admonished, pulled my hands down, and bended slightly so he could look at me straight. "There is _nothing_ even _remotely_ hideous about you, okay?"

I searched his eyes for proof that he didn't mean what he said, searched them for disgust at my appearance, but could find nothing of the sort. His eyes were warm, and loving, and they made me feel slightly better.

I sniffed, and nodded, and he pulled me flush against his chest, his hands on my shoulder blades.

"You're my beautiful Bella," he breathed against the top of my head.

I hesitated for a while, then folded my arms around his waist, and basked in his wonderful scent. We stood like that for a few minutes, but then I grew tired, and my head started to throb. He seemed to notice it immediately, but surprised me when he held me a couple of minutes longer.

"All right," he finally said, and the sadness in his voice made him seem tired. "Let's get you something to drink."

ooo000ooo

_Tuesday_

"Edward?"

After a few hours of lying in the darkness, my voice broke the silence.

"Yes?"

His hand stopped its circuit on my back, and I could hear he was surprised. We both lay on my bed, me under the blankets, he on top of them, and I just couldn't sleep. I'd tried for hours, but I figured that it was all still too new, the space we both carefully kept between us still too awkward, the arm that had rubbed my back until now too much of a reminder of his other arm, which lay so decently by his side.

And on top of that, I'd been unable to stop wondering.

"Why did you come back?" I whispered, looking at the side of his face as he lay beside me. "I mean, really?"

He slowly turned his face towards me, bringing it only inches from mine, and his hand left its place on my back to brush my hair out of my face.

"Like I said, I came to check on you." He stared at me in a cautious way, his eyes betraying the tension he kept hidden in the rest of his appearance.

"Yeah," I mused, thinking about the way he'd showed up. His finger smoothed the skin between my eyebrows, distracting me from my thoughts.

"But I mean, why now?" I pressed. "Why, after - "

"Seven months?" He gave a small, sad smile in the darkness, and stroked my exposed cheek with the back of his fingers. "I really thought that what I did was best. I thought that keeping away from you would keep you safe." He gave a soft snort, and raised his eyebrows at me.

"Yeah," I murmured again, knowing what he was thinking, and agreeing. He'd been an idiot.

"But it got so hard," he went on, and his voice became distant as he remembered, his eyes looking at me but seeing things far away. "I wanted to do what I thought was right by you, but it was so wrong for me."

He fell silent, and then came slowly back to my room, to me. "It hurt, literally _hurt_, to stay away from you." He closed his eyes and covered them with the palm of his hand.

I swallowed and pressed my lips together. It wouldn't do to cry now...

"I know," I whispered, and carefully tugged at his wrist. He shouldn't hide his beautiful face. I tugged again, and he allowed me to pull his hand back. I kept hold of it, and drew my legs up towards my chest, peeking up at him.

Our eyes met again.

"Of course," he sighed, and his voice was sarcastic, "after a while, I started to doubt that what I'd done had been at all good for you. I had to know that you were all right. Alice couldn't see, so I knew I had to go myself if I wanted to see how you were doing."

This time I was the one to sigh, and I looked down at my pillow.

"And then?" I prompted in a small voice.

"Then," he answered simply, " one day, I cracked. And came here." He smiled and raised our conjoined hands. "Really, to think I thought I could actually stay away from you." His voice was riddled with distaste.

"I think you managed for quite a while, though," I whispered. At that, his free hand nudged my chin up, making me meet his eyes. They were black, though he had hunted only two days ago.

"I'm sorry," he said, louder than before, and he kissed my forehead.

"I know," I muttered, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and closed my eyes. Silence fell again.

"I love you," he added after a minute or two, and everything about him felt so fragile as he waited for me to say it back.

I squeezed his hand instead. "I know," I whispered again, and hated myself for it.

ooo000ooo

_Wednesday_

The smell was what I'd missed the most. The scent that greeted you as you stepped through those doors and that made you pause for a second, inhaling that perfect fragrance that somehow always smelled like home - wherever that was - as you decided where you wanted to go first.

Of course, with someone like Edward standing beside you, adding _his_ unique fragrance to the mix, that first stage took slightly longer than a second.

"Really, are you ever going to move?"

I looked at him sideways, and grinned. "Sure. Sure."

But I remained where I was, standing still. Enjoying the moment.

He gave my hand a soft squeeze - our new way to say that it was all right, that we were fine with the way things were.

With exception to _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_, I hadn't read a book in seven months. Edward had asked me about it this morning, noting that my bedroom was unusually bereft of its customary scatter of paperbacks. It had taken a while, but eventually the story had come out, and we'd both shut up about it until he asked me, about an hour later, if I was up for a ride.

So here we were, in a bookstore in Port Angeles, standing just a few feet away from the entrance. I was swaddled in scarves and jackets, Edward insisting that I tell him when I started feeling ill again, and I sniffed the air around me.

"Delicious," I muttered softly, and took a tentative step forward. Edward let go of my hand, and I looked back over my shoulder. "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Lead the way, love."

I beamed at him, and turned to face forwards again. My gaze fell on the signpost, and after one last perusal, I made my decision.

_'Classics - First Floor'_

I strode towards the staircase, knowing exactly where I wanted to go.

ooo000ooo

_Thursday_

_'About eighty kilometres east of Lake Maggiore, travellers can enjoy the tranquillity and spectacular views of Lake Como. The lake is renowned for the beautiful, luxurious villas on its banks, and, as the popularity of the lake increases, for the numerous celebrities who have bought property here. Among them George Clooney, Richard Brandon and many...'_

"You know," I mumbled, laying on the couch underneath a mountain of blankets, "I had a thing for George Clooney once."

Images of expensive looking houses filled the screen, and I stared at them dumbly as they flashed by.

"A thing?"

Something about Edward's voice distracted me, and I turned my head to look at him. He sat on the ground, his back against the couch, his head near my feet, and he was gazing at me blankly.

"Yeah," I waved my hand, trying to convey that this wasn't really important. "You know."

"No, I don't, actually."

I was taken aback. "Really?"

He smiled cautiously. "Yeah. What do you mean, you had 'a thing' for him?"

"Well..." I tried to wrap my mind around this thing. Jeez, who would have thought..."You never saw a woman who was completely unattainable and probably really wrong for you," I started, " like she was way too old for you, for example - but with whom, given the nonexistent chance, of course, you wouldn't mind to, you know, share a cup of tea?"

"Share a cup of tea?" He sounded completely baffled.

"Yeah," I smiled, embarrassed now. "You know?"

"Um... no?"

"Really?"

"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, his eyes clouding a bit as he seemed to think it over. Then his eyes came back to rest on my face. "You feel that way about _George Clooney_?" he asked incredulously.

"No," I cringed, mortified, wishing I'd never even broached the subject, "not like _that_. And I said I _had_ a thing for George Clooney _once_." Oh dear...

"But he's far too old for you," he admonished, a dumbstruck expression on his beautiful face.

"I know," I sighed, "forget I even mentioned it. I'm just saying I used to think he looks good - especially in a suit. Seriously, it's silly."

I laid my head back on the armrest and turned my eyes back to the television, where the sun was slowly setting over the lake. The image was breathtaking...

"Well, whether he's too old or not," I muttered, "I don't blame him, wanting to live there... It's beautiful." I took a sip of my tea, waited until commercials interrupted the programme, and shut the TV off, feeling rather despondent.

I looked up and saw Edward watching me closely.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" I asked him, though I deemed it rather unnecessary to even ask. Of course he'd been there...

"Yes," he said, and stood up. "Though I've never actually been near lake Como..."

"Hmm."

He took the empty mug from my hands and took it to the kitchen wile I fished one of many tissues out of my pocket and blew my nose. It was so embarrassing to be sick when Edward was near, though I silently thanked divine providence that I only had something as vaguely disgusting as a cold. Imagine if I'd gotten diarrhoea...

I shuddered at the thought, and suddenly felt a cold hand against my forehead. He'd done this every day, every hour, though I didn't have a fever since yesterday.

"How do you feel?"

"Good," I sniffed. "Though my nose won't cooperate."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure your nose will behave better in a little while."

I smiled. "Hope so."

"Will you go back to school on Monday?"

"Yeah," I murmured, my spirits dampening. I hadn't thought about school in ages, and the prospect of going back wasn't particularly appetizing. "I could have gone back yesterday, to be honest."

"No you couldn't," he said immediately, shaking his head at me. "You had a fever yesterday."

"My fever had already gone down yesterday."

"Yes, but you still had a temperature."

"All right," I held up my hands in surrender. "All right. I'll go back on Monday."

"Good," he grinned angelically, and sat back on the floor. I lay on my side and closed my eyes, enjoying the silence while trying to fall asleep. It was useless, really; I hadn't slept properly all week.

"I have a suit, you know," he suddenly said.

I looked up and saw him watching me. "I'm sorry?"

"You said you thought George Clooney looked good in a suit."

"Yeah?" _So? _

"I have a suit," he said simply.

I blinked."Yeah, I remember."

"Oh? You do?"

"You wore a suit to the prom."

"Right," he mused, looking slightly surprised. Then his expression darkened, to one of vague discontent.

I grinned.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"George has nothing on you," I sniffed. "Especially in a suit."

His face broke in a glorious smile.

ooo000ooo

_Friday_

All I felt were his hands, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me awake, but it was too much. I must have shot out of bed with my eyes closed, because when I opened them I found myself crouched above the toilet, heart pounding, stomach lurching, depositing my meagre dinner into the bowl. I tried to breathe, but couldn't, memories of the dream twisting my insides. Tears forced their way out of the corners of my eyes as dry heaves made me shudder, and I gasped, drawing air into my lungs as the twisting ceased. I groped the air in front of me for the handle, flushed, and sank onto the floor.

"It wasn't real," I whispered to myself as I rested my forehead, clammy with cold sweat, on the tiles. I saw his evil smirk in my mind's eye, and shuddered. "It didn't happen..."

"Bella?"

I tensed, and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to come back to the here and now. "It wasn't real," I whispered again, but why could I feel his hands on me, even though he wasn't here? My heart was still pounding in my throat, fear coursing thickly through my veins. It was irrational, stupid, but I couldn't make it stop.

"Bella?"

"I need to shower," I muttered frantically, putting my palms and fingers flat against the tiles and pushing myself upright without opening my eyes. "I need to shower." It was the only thing I could think of that would take the fear away, wash the feeling of his hands from my body.

I scrambled out of my pyjama bottoms, shuddered at the sensation of cotton sliding down my legs, and opened my eyes to turn on the shower, pulling my top off over my head. The water was hot, nearly painfully so, and I slid down again until I sat on the bottom of the shower with my back against the wall.

"It didn't happen, it didn't happen, it didn't happen," I whispered under my breath, trying to convince myself. I brought my knees to my chest and folded my arms around my legs, shaking my head. "It didn't happen..."

"Bella?"

The voice was louder now, and I startled, looking up at the shadow behind the shower curtain. Suddenly the daze seemed to lift, and the fear lessened, the horror faded.

"Bella, turn the heat down," he insisted, but I didn't really understand his words, and then his arm came through the curtain, and the water turned cooler. Oh.

I found my voice.

"I'm sorry," I croaked.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." I tried to sound as confident, as comforting as possible, but failed completely. My voice was squeaky, small. "I had a nightmare..."

"I figured," he muttered. The shrinking of his shadow down the curtain confused me until I realised that he was sitting down as well.

We were silent for a while, and I slowly calmed down as the water fell and my muscles relaxed. I didn't think about my dream, but let the memory wash away the best I could.

"Let me know when you want to get out," he suddenly said. "I'll get you a towel."

I nodded.

"Bella?"

"Yes." I scrambled to my feet and shut off the water. "I'm all right now. I want to get out."

A towel came through the curtain. "There you go."

I took it from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll wait outside."

ooo000ooo

_Saturday_

Didn't someone once say that the best cure for insomnia was to get a lot of sleep?

Right. Pure genius.

It had taken me hours to fall asleep after my nightmare, yesterday night. When I'd woken up from a troubled haze early in the morning, I'd found a note from Edward saying he'd gone back to his house to change, and would be back by noon.

I didn't bother to get out of bed.

All those months of hardly sleeping, hardly eating, of having nightmares every night, were finally catching up with me, it seemed. I felt completely drained, anxious, unable to relax, and my body ached from my fingers to my toes.

Sleep.

Such a simple pleasure, but I wanted it back.

And I just couldn't get it. All I could get was a few hours every night, at the most, and even those hours weren't spent in peaceful slumber. I'd wake up screaming, trashing, or - like last night - vomiting.

I drew the duvet over my head, trying in vain to sink through the mattress and escape to a world of fluffy white clouds, and fluffy white sheep...

And I just couldn't.

At noon, the doorbell rang. Yesterday evening, Charlie had decided to officially grant Edward permission to enter the house, so there was no need for him to climb through my window now. Officially, of course. He still did it after or before 'visiting hours', so to speak, when Charlie had fallen asleep, or had already left for work.

I turned to lie on my other side and stuck my head out from under the duvet as I listened to the sounds Charlie made when heaving himself off the couch and slouching to the front door. The door opened, voices buzzed quietly, and the stairs creaked under two pairs of feet. A knock, and a squeak as this door, too, opened.

"Hi," he said quietly, seeing that I was awake. Charlie stood behind him, arms crossed in front of his chest. I sighed. This wouldn't do...

"Dad," I muttered hoarsely, "why don't you go watch the game?"

Charlie seemed surprised by my less than subtle hint to leave us alone. His face got red, and he huffed, and grunted a bit, but stomped down the stairs nonetheless. I listened for the sound of the couch puffing under his weight as he flumped down on it, then turned my gaze to Edward.

"Hi," I finally greeted him, and he smiled at me as he sat down next to me on the bed.

"Hi. How are you?" He took my hand in his and rubbed my knuckles with his thumb. It made my heart skip a beat, but only a beat.

"I'm so tired," I muttered, too tired to say I was fine and have a discussion about it.

"Charlie says you haven't got out of bed today?"

"No," I admitted, and pulled the duvet back over my head.

He stuck his hands underneath the blankets and put his palm flat against my forehead again.

"You don't have a fever. Do you feel ill?"

"No," I breathed. "Just achy, I guess..."

"Did you eat anything?"

I swallowed. "No," I said in a small voice.

I felt the bed shift beneath his weight as he lay down next to me and pulled the duvet back to reveal my face. His eyes were friendly, but crinkled at the edges, and there was a tension to them that I'd seen grow over the past few days.

"You worry me," he said quietly after he'd watched me for a few more moments.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, shamefaced, making him stroke my cheek where a blush probably had appeared.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," he added darkly.

I sighed. "It's not yours either."

The corners of his lips lifted in a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It is."

My head started thumping with fatigue, and I closed my eyes with another sigh. If I could just fall asleep...

"What was your dream about, last night?" His voice was almost casual as he broke the silence.

Almost.

But not quite. I drew the duvet back over my head again, holding onto it this time.

"Nothing," I said forcefully.

"Bella..."

"It was nothing," I insisted. "It wasn't real. So it's nothing. Please, I just want to sleep."

He stayed silent after that, and I turned on my other side, my back towards him.

And I couldn't sleep.

ooo000ooo

_Sunday_

Sunday proved to be a bad day.

After Edward had left for the morning I went downstairs and had a numb breakfast with Charlie, though I was too tired to eat anything of substance. My jaws hurt when I tried to chew, and the joints in my fingers ached every time I moved.

Charlie's face had taken on the same worried features as Edward's, and he watched me closely. When I'd given up on eating more than just a few bites of my toast, he'd practically ordered me to keep going and eat up. I tried to argue, but didn't think it worth wasting the energy. I just looked out the window while I chewed and chewed, noticing that the weather was reasonably fine today, and thinking that perhaps it would help me if I sat outside for a change. I'd been inside practically all week.

So, I was grasping at straws by now.

I stood up, put my plate on the kitchen counter, and announced to Charlie I was going to sit outside for a while.

"You'll put your coat on?" he asked me, watching me with a doubtful look on his face.

"Sure," I muttered.

After I'd closed the zipper of my coat I went out through the back door and laid down in my lounger, trying to enjoy the scarce sunrays that peeked through the clouds today. I laid my head back and sighed. You shouldn't be allowed to get so tired when you did as little as I'd done the past few days...

I watched the tips of the trees swaying in the wind again, and shivered a bit with the cold. The wind seemed to blow though my jeans, chilling my legs. It reminded me of before, when I'd fallen asleep wrapped around Edward's cold body, my legs tangled with his. To be honest, I missed falling asleep like that, but it still scared me to be any closer to him than a simple hug would allow.

The sound of his car stopping at the side of the road distracted me from my thoughts. His car door slammed, and just like yesterday, Edward rang the bell. I supposed he didn't want to make Charlie feel he didn't respect his authority as a father, because he must have known I was outside.

Today, though, Charlie didn't follow him as he walked towards me, and handed me a blanket.

"For you," he greeted me, eyeing the way I lay on the lounger. "You'll get cold like this."

I took the blanket from him and wrapped it around me absentmindedly, distracted by something that was different about his face.

"Your eyes are black again," I mused when I'd figured it out. They'd grown slowly darker during the past week, but now the faint slivers of gold had completely gone.

He just nodded and sat down beside me, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"So soon?"

"Yes, well..." he drifted off.

"Well?" I prompted.

"I didn't really hunt as much as I should have, these past months."

I frowned. "So your eyes turn black sooner? Because your body is trying to repair the damage?"

"That's one way to put it, yes."

"You should hunt," I blurted out, and immediately felt a bubble of anxiety well up inside me. He'd have to leave...

"Don't worry," Edward tried to comfort me, watching my face as it probably displayed every emotion coursing through me at the moment, "it's not - "

"It is. It is important. You should hunt," I insisted. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I go back to school tomorrow, and you haven't yet re-enrolled. So go tomorrow."

I met his gaze as evenly as I could, not backing down. I could do this for one day, and I'd deal with it. He watched me dubiously for a few more minutes, then nodded gravely.

"All right. I'll go tomorrow."

"Good." I gave him a forced smile, then took his hand and squeezed it.

I could do this. Despite the lack of sleep, the flu and the fever, this week had been a good week. I hadn't fallen apart - well, only for a short while after the nightmare - and I'd kept the hope that I'd started the week with burning deep inside me.

Even with all my thoughts and emotions running haywire inside me, I'd managed to move forward this week. It had been a week to move forward.

And I had to believe that next week would be a week to move forward as well.

I sighed, and watched Edward from the corner of my eyes. Well, my head believed it, at least.

But my heart - aching at the thought of him leaving me again - just wouldn't.

* * *

The quote about insomnia is by W.C. Fields, just so you know :-)

Oh, and I have a question. Do any of you know that if Jacob had died, like he did in this story, he would have had a funeral? I know that in NM Harry has a funeral, so I suppose Jacob would have had one as well? And would he have had a grave within the reservation? I really don't know anything about this, so I was hoping you might know perhaps :-S


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing, and letting me know if Jacob would have had a grave or not ;-) I'm really sorry for posting and replying so late; my classes have started again and because I want to make these chapters something I can be proud of, it takes me really long to get them done. I know I suck, but I hope you'll bear with me the next couple of months and continue to read and review to let me know what you think!

This is the last angsty chapter for a while. To keep things clear: Alice can't see Bella at all by now, so Edward would have no idea she'd gone to Jacob's grave. He's just spent the day hunting :-)

* * *

The wind swayed the trees, and I swayed with them.

There was nothing for me here. I'd spent the day hoping, spent the week relying on the thought of him being there for me, whatever happened.

But he wasn't here.

Except he was. Only he was dead, under a layer of earth, consuming him, or what was left of him. The real Jacob was gone.

I saw that now.

My hallucinations had been no more than that. Just snarky comments that _I_, not he, had made up to deal with everything that had happened.

Which meant that I was alone.

And the wind swayed the trees, and I swayed with them. Until I realised that there was nothing for me here, only death. Only death.

_The concept is as old as the hills, Bella. When somebody you love dies, you grieve._

He'd said that, but only now did I understand what it meant. I'd endured my first day back at school by the thought that he was waiting for me in the wings, being there if everything else failed. But he wasn't. He was just an illusion, conjured by my infested mind, showing that Carlisle had been right. I was sick.

Jacob's body lay in a grave underneath the earth, and that was that. The rest, I'd imagined.

_I only know what you know, Bella_, he'd said. _I'm not the Jacob as you knew him. I'm a part of you. _

And that was true. So true.

_And the sunlight clasps the earth,_

_And the moonbeams kiss the sea_

Tough toenails.

The day turned to evening, and the evening turned to night, and the wind blew on and on. Who cared about him? Who cared about him, when you hadn't slept for more than three hours on end for a week? I was selfish, and too tired to contradict it.

I turned my back on the stone slab marking the place where he joined the earth, crunching the gravel beneath my feet as I made my way back down the path. This wasn't going to work. I hadn't been able to concentrate at all today. I'd been in class, had faced the teachers, but I hadn't really been there. This didn't work.

I needed help.

I needed to sleep.

The engine started effortlessly and I drove in an unknown direction, drove through the dark, over road and crossroads I didn't pay attention to. The dark pushed over me like a blanket, and that's all I wanted.

The dark. I drove through it endlessly, paying no never mind to where I was going, just on, on, on.

But suddenly, startling me from my daze, haze, whatever it was, was the engine of my truck, stuttering. It gave a strange, hollow whirr, and was silent. I floored the accelerator, but to no avail, and the truck slowly rolled to a stop. I turned the ignition, once, twice, but nothing happened except that the engine gave the same hollow whirr each time I tried, only quieter now.

"Shit," I whispered in the night.

I knew I had plenty of gas before I left home this morning, and it'd been fine when I'd driven to school... So what was wrong? I opened the door and got out, trying not to feel too intimidated by the dark that surrounded me. I reminded myself that there's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light, and popped the hood.

Well.

I stared blankly at the black assembly of parts in front of me.

"Shit."

_What do I do? _

I closed the hood for starters, figuring that would be a lost cause anyway, and reached through the open door for my backpack, which lay on the passenger seat. I'd opened the zipper before I remembered that I'd left my phone on the kitchen table this morning, charging its battery.

"Shit."

I climbed back out of the truck, shouldered my rucksack, and stared at the truck, ridden with indecision, battling with my subconscious.

Should I walk?

_Walk where? _

Should I wait?

_Wait for what? For whom? _

Perhaps Alice could see me...

_But she can't._

And Edward's voice echoed through my mind as we'd said goodbye this morning. _Please be careful then, _he'd urged me, his face anxious and more than a little dissatisfied at my stubborn insistence that he had no one watch me all day. _Alice can't see you at all, anymore_, he'd said.

That clinched it. With my fabled bad luck, I'd stranded at the side of a road nobody seemed to use at this time of night, at a time when my semi-boyfriend's psychic sister couldn't see me, and I'd forgotten my phone. I could wait here until morning, but I didn't really fancy that... at all.

The road ahead was dark, too dark to see anything further than a few feet away from me, but I started walking nonetheless, walking in the direction I'd been driving before. I had no idea where I was, but I couldn't stay here, sitting in my truck at the side of a road.

So I stumbled on, and was too tired to be really anxious or concerned until my feet inevitably met some invisible obstacle, and I tripped, and immediately smelt the smell of blood, and felt the familiar sting of sliced skin shooting through my hands. Lifting them as I sat on my knees, I saw deep cuts in my fingers, slashed in the palm of my 'good' hand, in the wrist beneath it, glass lodged in its edges. And blood, blood, blood oozing out of the wound, so much more than I thought I'd ever seen, running down my arm.

My heart stuttered, and started racing in my throat. A gasp forced its way past my lips, in my lungs, making the scent blur and distort the dark around me, making my head light and wavy on my neck, on my shoulders.

_Pass out._

No.

_Go to sleep._

No. No...

_It's easy, _my subconscious suggested, no more than a whisper now...

Yes.

_So easy._

"Edward." I fought the nausea and made my vocal cords say the only thing I could think of. I looked away from the broken beer bottle at my knees, and struggled to my feet. No no no no no no... No...

Morbidly, fragments of the poem by Shelley - which we'd covered in class today - flashed through my mind.

_And the sunlight clasps the earth,_

_And the moonbeams kiss the sea_

_What are all these kissings worth,_

_If thou kiss not me?_

I was standing now, and took a step forward, and another, the pain making tears drip down my face, down my nose, making blood drip down my wrist as I held it up, vertical, trying to keep the blood inside me.

Edward.

_What about him? _

Edward.

_What?_

I'm walking. Towards you. I didn't want to die. I never wanted to die. I just never wanted to be in a world where you weren't with me.

I was walking now, or something like it, my breaths wheezing, my head pounding so I didn't hear. Edward. Edward. I looked at my wrist, still bleeding so profusely.

"No," I sobbed, trying to walk faster, as fast as my sleep-deprived body could go... "No."

My feet hurt, slipping on the wet pavement, sopping in my sneakers. When had it started raining? I couldn't die now, not now, when he was back, and he'd think I did it on purpose.

_Don't hurt yourself, Bella._ She's said it, she'd seen it, she'd tell him I did it, that I didn't want to be with him.

"No," I muttered, shaking my head against the bile rising in my throat, forcing myself to breathe. "Edward, "I was so tired, my head so woozy, my legs aching, my hand so cold, the deep stitches of pain keeping the tears falling.

_Just close your eyes. _

No.

_You'll see Jacob again. _

My steps on the concrete slowed down.

_Close your eyes..._

But then...

"Shit."

I'd stumbled against something hard, something big... A car, parked next to another one on a slab of concrete... I looked around me, wiping my sweaty forehead with my hand.

I was on the edge of a parking lot, surrounded by cars standing neatly one by one, perfect rows of black masses in the dark. And in the distance a building, a building I knew well, a building that made me think I must have subconsciously driven toward it all along.

I stumbled forward. This was where I had to go. I needed help. And I would get it there. Right there, where the lights were. They shone dimly, tiny bulbs of illumination far away from me, too far away from me. But they were there.

And my feet brought me there.

Step by step, my feet moved me closer to the lights. I was too tired for running now, too cold, too wet, too woozy, my mind incapable of forming a plan, concerns, patterns, lights... But they grew, slowly, so slowly the lights grew.

Until they became lights that illuminated the parking lot, and lights that illuminated the pedestrian's path, and, finally, the entrance. I stumbled through the revolving doors like I was dreaming, which perhaps I was, overwhelmed by the warmth, and the lights, and the people here.

I came to a halt in the middle of the reception area of the hospital.

I swayed, and the room swayed with me. Now that I'd reached my destination, I'd nowhere left to go.

"Honey?"

I turned my head to see a middle-aged woman with red hair smiling at me benignly.

"Are you okay?"

I wiped my forehead with my hand again. It was so hot in here... so hot...

"Honey, you're bleeding." Her voice had a tinge of hysteria to it now.

"I'm sorry..." I muttered stupidly. "So sorry..."

"Bella?" The voice was familiar, but for once, I welcomed the small burst of feelings it initiated... He was standing in a doorway, staring at me, coming towards me in a move too fast for me to see properly.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled again, swaying in the space where the woman didn't grab hold of me. But he did. He held me firmly by my waist, and raised my hand for perusal. "I need help..."

"What happened?" He was leading me away now, through the doors he'd appeared through. I followed meekly, stumbling behind him, my arm still in his hand. Through more doors, and more doors, and hallways, and corridors full of even brighter lights that made me squint.

"Bella? What happened?"

"I'm sorry... It was an accident..." I swayed, and he said something I didn't really catch, but suddenly I was lifted and the ceiling wheeled down above me, until it stopped, and the ceiling didn't change anymore.

"I'm sorry," I garbled, looking at the white panes. "I didn't do it, I didn't... not on purpose..." Could he hear me? I couldn't hear myself. Darkness was gathering in that familiar way on the edges of my vision... "No, no... no..." I closed my eyes against the bright lights, wishing they were gone, wishing I were gone.

_Sleep..._

"No..."

_Just sleep..._

The tension left my body, the pain was gone -

"Bella!"

His voice brought it all back, shouting at me, though I was unable to understand. But he _had_ _to_ understand.

"I'm sorry..." I breathed again."It was an accident, I didn't... it was..."

"I know, Bella. Just stay awake."

"An accident... my truck..."

_Sleep._

"Edward."

"I'll call him, Bella."

_Sleep._

"Edward."

"Stay awake for him, Bella, okay?"

"Yes."

_Close your eyes. _

The lights were too bright now, the air too warm, too stuffy. I closed my eyes.

"Bella. Open your eyes."

_Sleep._

"Bella!"

_Jacob's there..._

He's dead.

A sharp sting in my arm. Not my wrist. This was pain, new pain, waking me up. My eyelids flickered, and opened. His face...

"Carlisle..."

"Yes. It'll be all right. It's shallow..."

"Yes." My voice was a soft, as quiet as the wind on a summer's evening. A white ceiling, and bright lights... "Carlisle..." His face came into focus

"I'm here."

"I'm sorry..." I breathed. "I didn't mean..."

"Bella, I can see that. Don't you worry. It's not as deep as it looked."

"No," I mumbled, enjoying the sensation of that familiar numbing slowly spreading through my arm. "No," I swallowed thickly, "for what I said, I mean..."

I raised my head to look at him, and his eyes were studying me, then meeting mine.

"It's quite understandable," he said quietly.

"No," I shook my head, fighting against the urge to lay my head back on the stretcher and sleep, sleep, sleep. "I was... You weren't - _didn't_... deserve it."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile.

Thank you," he answered, his voice earnest, and leaned forward to stroke my cheek with the palm of his hand. "Edward will be here soon. Stay awake for him?"

"Yes."

But as the adrenaline left my body, my body felt like pudding about to collapse, and I felt my eyelids close on their own accord. I was so tired... and my subconscious wouldn't give up.

_Sleep, _it insisted.

"I won't sleep," I whispered, a last effort. Carlisle's voice sounded insubstantial as he responded, but it was too late.

I'd already fallen asleep.

ooo000ooo

When I started to resurface, I knew I hadn't been asleep for long. The first thing that made me realise that was that I was too tired to have slept more than a few moments. The second was that as I slowly become more and more aware, Edward's voice sounded like he'd arrived only minutes ago; he sounded frantic, and rather angry. However, by the time I recognised the words, the volume of the conversation had diminished drastically; while Edward had been nearly shouting before, both of them were now hissing at each other, making it impossible for me to catch more than a few words at a time.

"... bad idea... disastrous... to think that..."

"...her choice, Edward -"

"_Don't _be absurd... - never... she's -"

"She's not..."

"Oh for the... Look at her!" Edward exclaimed, louder all of a sudden, waking me entirely.

"Edward," I breathed, shifting strangely, blinking in the blurring visuals of a different room than the one I'd fallen asleep in, and I was lying in a strange bed, Edward and Carlisle at the foot of it, gawking at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered miserably. "I'm so sorry."

"Bella," he sighed, and sat down at the edge of my bed, wafting his amazing smell towards me, smelling of home, just like Carlisle did.

"It was an accident. I didn't..."

"I know, Bella. Carlisle told me. You fell."

"I'm sorry," I tried again, not knowing what else to say. My voice sounded weak, frail, pathetic.

"Bella, please, don't say that." He sounded disturbed, but he didn't close the distance between us. He just sat there, staring at me in that peculiar way, and more tears trickled down my cheeks. He held my gaze, then reached out and ran the tip of his index finger over my bottom lip. The way his eyes burned into mine held me frozen, laying in this strange bad like a sculpture, awaiting final judgment.

But when his fingertip left my lip, he said nothing.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated. It was the only thing I could think of.

"Bella..."

"It was an accident," I started rambling. "The truck broke down, and I tried to fix it, but I couldn't, and I tried to call you, but I'd forgotten my phone, so I walked down the road but I fell and then my hand was bleeding, and I panicked and I started running. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die. I want to be with you. Please believe me. I'm so sorry, I didn't do it, didn't do it on purpose..."

I reached for him and took his hand in mine, though mine was covered in bandages and his was perfect, white marble.

" It's okay, Bella. I love you. It was an accident." He gave me a small smile, comforting me slightly.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. It's annoying."

"I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes, and sighed, but then he was silent again. I frowned.

"You're closed off," I said softly.

He let go, and cupped my face between his hands.

"Bella - "

"You won't go, will you?" I intervened, panicky.

"No! How can you think that?"

I didn't answer, and looked down. The exhaustion, gone with the thrill of seeing him again, was creeping up at me once more, drowning me slowly but surely.

"You fell," he suddenly said, sounding tortured. "And I wasn't there. Nobody was there. You were all alone. Nobody was there for you. Because you asked me that nobody watch you, and I wanted to do what you wanted for a change."

I looked up at his tortured face.

"You were all alone. You could have bled out."

"But I didn't." I tried to say it as strongly as possible, my exhaustion for the moment forgotten. "I came here."

Suddenly a slow flurry of movement at the foot of my bed caught my attention, and I looked up to see Carlisle come closer. "You walked here?"

I tried to think back. "I think so... But it took so long..."

"Where did your truck break down?"

"I don't remember. I didn't really know where I was before it broke down..." I closed my eyes. I'd been monumentally stupid.

"How do you feel?" Edward's question was overly familiar by now.

"I'm so tired," I breathed. When had I last had a decent night's sleep?

"I know, Bella. You need to sleep."

I hummed in agreement, but didn't have the energy for opening my eyes again. I was warm here, wherever here was, and was wearing dry pyjamas, no matter whose they were... I wanted to sleep, and I had the feeling I just might be able to now. I felt safe, and the tension of the last week had gone from my mind.

His cold lips touched my forehead. "You need help, Bella."

"I know," I breathed, keeping my eyes closed.

"Will you talk to Carlisle?"

"Yes..."

"But sleep first, Bella."

But I had to ask him something first. Something that had been on my mind all week.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Remember lake Como?"

"Yes?"

"I want to go away, Edward."

The dark was inviting, the warmth building a haze around me, and I was gone.

And I dreamt of foreign countries, of strange places I'd never been, and of Edward to explore them with.

* * *

Well... I'm gonna go ahead and call this the** end of part one**, I think... Next chapters will move forward far more quickly, with lots of improvements in their conditions to make you happy ;-)

One last note: the fragments of the poem are from_ Love's Philosophy_, by Percy Bysshe Shelley.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

So, the first chapter of part two ;-) Events in this chapter take place some time after the incident with the bottle of beer. I hope you'll like it.

Thanks to all of you for reviewing to my story! It makes my day to read about your thoughts on this story and realise that this thing actually gets read halfway across the world ;-) So thanks for that!

One last thing: I'm not a doctor or anything, so please give me a little leeway on the medical information in this story. I did my best basing this all on research, but I'm sure I might have made mistakes.

* * *

The sliding doors closed behind us as we walked into the soft air of the evening. Ugly fluorescent lights made the concrete seem brittle, made the cars seem slippery as they stood with damp windows in their allotted spaces.

I balked.

Edward came to a halt beside me.

"Bella?"

His fingertips tentatively came in contact with mine, and he gave my hand a soft squeeze. I turned my head and looked at him. His eyes perused mine for any clue as to what could have made me stop so suddenly at the edge of the airport car park, but the edge of concern I saw in his eyes made me determined not to give it.

I gave him a small smile, then looked straight ahead again.

This wasn't like last time.

Taking a deft stride forward, I made Edward do the same, and on we went, him leading the way. He decisively led us through the maze of cars, never letting go of my hand though he carried all our luggage, obviously knowing exactly where to go. My sneakers slopped in the small pools of water that had collected at the spots where the concrete was uneven beneath our feet.

After about five minutes, we turned right, and walked along the road between the rows of cars. Up in the clear sky stars were in abundance, and soft wind stroked my face, its residual warmth of the day caressing my skin.

Edward stopped in front of a sleek, black Mercedes with tinted windows, a car much like the one Carlisle drove in Forks, and pressed a button on the keys he'd taken out of his pocket. The trunk slowly slid open.

"This is it?" I asked dumbly.

He grinned. "Yes."

"Wow." Even I could see that this was a nice car…

"We have cars at the ready at most major airports in Europe and South America," he explained while loading our baggage into the trunk. When he was done, he closed it, walked around the car to the passenger door, and opened it. "There you go."

I slid into the seat, welcoming the familiar Cullen smell of its interior as Edward sat down beside me and closed the door. It was dark for a second, the windows fogged up, before he started the engine and the dashboard lit up, enabling me to see his face at it turned towards me.

"Are you cold?"

I shrugged. I was always cold these days. He pushed a button hidden somewhere behind the gearshift, and immediately I felt the plush leather beneath me grow toasty warm. Smiling in lazy delight I laid back against the seat, curling my legs beneath me as Edward backed out of the parking space and drove towards the exit of the lot.

I was asleep before we hit the _autostrada_.

_Our fingers touched fleetingly as I handed him my suitcase, and I glanced at him shyly, enjoying the spark that was still there, somewhere between us._

_His answering smile reassured me that he felt it, too._

_He lifted my suitcase in the trunk of the Volvo, closed it, then turned around with his hands in his pockets. Charlie was standing near the front door, holding my coat. We slowly walked towards each other, and stopped with a few feet left between us._

_"Well," I began, "I suppose that's it."_

_Charlie said nothing._

_"We've packed everything we need."_

_"Don't forget your coat, Bells." He handed it to me._

_"Thanks," I smiled, shrugging it on and closing the zipper. "I'll call."_

_"Yes. You promised."_

_"I did."_

_"Every day, remember?"_

_"I do." I stepped forward and hugged him. "Thanks, dad," I whispered in his ear, remembering the fights we'd had about this in the hospital. "For letting us do this."_

_His hands were on my back now, pulling me closer._

_"Be careful, all right?" he murmured, and I nodded, my chin digging in his shoulder._

_"I'll be careful."_

_"And have a good time."_

_"I will."  
_

_"Good," he cleared his throat. "And come back."_

_"Of course," I released him, and stepped back. "Before the school year starts."_

_"Okay then."_

_We walked towards the car together, Edward opening my door for me. I kissed Charlie on the cheek one last time, then sat down on the passenger seat, waving at him through the window._

_As we backed out of the driveway and turned onto the road, I thought I saw Esme standing at the edge of the woods, watching us._

_I averted my eyes._

I woke with a start. We were still on the highway, unfamiliar green signposts flashing by.

= BOLGONA - OVEST =

I stiffly disentangled my legs from underneath me and turned in my seat to look at Edward.

"Hey," he said softly, glancing at me. "Welcome back. You've already slept. That's a good start."

I swallowed thickly, dazed from sleeping, not one bit less tired than before.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm lousy company."

"No you're not. You need to sleep, Bella. It's good to see you sleep."

I gave him a small smile, remembering how we'd had the same conversation before. I'd been in the hospital for about two days, and as my fever was slowly abating, I'd finally slept more than twelve hours on end. When I finally woke up, I'd apologised, chiefly out of fear that he'd grow tired of watching me sleep.

"How much longer 'till we get there?"

"About two and a half hours, I guess. I'm driving rather slow..."

That surprised me. "Why?"

"Because you get restless when I drive faster than eighty miles per hour."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. You start to twist and turn, and you mumble all sorts of things I can't understand. It drives me crazy."

"Apt choice of words," I mumbled sleepily, and saw his grin as it was illumined by the lights of the dashboard. "Sorry."

"That's all right. I suppose we don't have to worry about speeding tickets." He gave me an ironic grin, then turned his attention back to the road, more for my sake than for his, I guessed, and closed my eyes gratefully.

And my dreams were filled with memories.

_I held my breath as Carlisle unwrapped my hand, slowly removing the bandages, but my worries proved - once again - unfounded. All that remained were three thin, red lines, one in my wrist, two in the palm of my hand, all about an inch long._

_"They're healing up quite nicely," Carlisle said softly, gently touching the skin._

_"They're so small," I breathed in wonder, remembering all the flowing blood and all the blossoming fear that these tiny cuts had caused. They seemed hardly worth all the distress now..._

_"You panicked," Carlisle stated, applying some sort of ointment onto the healing wounds._

_"Obviously," I murmured, and stretched my fingers, making me wince._

_"Still quite tender, I see? That's to be expected. Try not to move them too much."_

_"No..."_

_He wrapped fresh bandages around my hand while I stared listlessly at the room I was in. Blank walls, black TV, old chairs surrounding the bed, and a small bouquet of roses. White ones._

_"There." He sat back, hands folded in his lap, perching on the edge of the bed. "Is that okay?"_

_I lifted my hand, turning it around in front of me. "Yes. Thank you."_

_"You're welcome." He reached behind him and took my chart, then started writing things down on it._

_Carlisle had always left immediately after tending to me, but now he remained where he was, sitting on my bed. I looked away from him, picking an imaginary spot on the blanket, then settled on looking past him, out the window. All I could see from here were the clouds, and they didn't bring much relief; they were too grey, too blank, really, to interest me..._

_To distract me from the embarrassment that had grown inside me since my spontaneous call for help about a week ago. To help me hide the part of me that expected him to turn around, leave the room, and never come back._

_Like Edward had promised..._

_I cringed in my pillow, willing the clouds to show me something that could keep the fear back._

_"Bella."_

_I knew what was coming now. I'd promised to talk to Carlisle before the fever started, and now the fever was down and I was finally able to lift my head off the pillow without cringing, I guessed Carlisle had decided that the time was right._

_I met his eyes, those beautiful golden eyes carefully perusing me._

_"Will you talk to me?"_

_I let out a deep sigh, a sigh that seemed to come from my heart instead of my lungs._

_I didn't want to talk. But I said yes anyway._

_"Well then," he began, "as I've said before, I think you suffer from catatonic schizophrenia."_

_He waited for me to confirm it, and I did with a short nod. Edward had prepared me for this._

_"Unfortunately, we're not really sure what causes it. Often, it is associated with other conditions, such as depression, or stressful life-circumstances. Reversely, though, catatonic schizophrenia may also actually _cause_ depression, poor nutrition, an inability to function at work or school."_

_He paused, and I bit my lip, looking at my hands. We both knew this applied to me in more ways than one..._

_"As such," Carlisle went on, carefully now, "catatonic schizophrenia is a chronic condition that requires lifelong treatment."_

_My eyes snapped up to meet his as tears formed in the corners, threatening to flow over._

_"Bella, it's okay," he said in response to the look I must have given him. "There are things we can do." His big hand covered mine now, and I nodded, trying to look brave, swallowing my tears._

_"Go on," I muttered._

_"The first thing we can do is start you on a course of benzodiazepines. These are anti-anxiety meds, and they should relieve your catatonic symptoms if you take them for a few weeks. Also, when you inject them in a vein, they will relieve your symptoms quickly when you're in a state of catatonia."_

_I nodded again._

_"Good. Now the second thing we can do, which is probably more important than taking medication, is for you to start seeing a psychiatrist."_

_I gazed at him, too stupefied for words.._

"_Sorry?" I eventually found my words. "Are you serious?" There was an edge in a voice that was new, even to me, and Carlisle seemed to have heard it as well. He sat back slightly._

_"Bella, please listen to me - "_

_"What do you propose I say to a psychiatrist?" I exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. "Charlie also suggested that after you left. What should I say?"_

_He frowned._

_"Should I say that my boyfriend left me after I got a paper-cut and his brother tried to eat me? That he told me he didn't want me because he thought it was best if I didn't belong to a world with vampires in it?"_

_Carlisle seemed taken aback. I raised my eyebrows at him._

"_Just consider what would happen when I'd go to a psychiatrist and started talking honestly about what had happened to me. Because I think you should be honest when you talk to someone like that. What would happen when I'd tell the psychiatrist that unfortunately the plan concocted by my ex-boyfriend to keep me safe didn't work out because a vampire belonging to the group of vampires who tried to kill me last year actually came back and tried to kill me this year. What would happen when I told a psychiatrist that I was saved from a certain death by a pack of werewolves? And that a boy belonging to that pack saved my life after I jumped off a cliff? What would happen if I told him – or her," I interjected, "how he died while saving me from another vampire, and that I see him in my dreams?"_

I forced myself to wake up now. This conversation was not to be replayed again and again. I'd already talked it over with Edward, and he'd talked it over with Carlisle so he knew what to do, and we'd all talked it over with Charlie, so he'd know what to do. I knew what to do as well, and what not do to, so now was the time to do it. Or not to do it, as the case may be.

"I think I should tell you something," Edward's voice broke through my reverie. I blinked, and saw him watching me again.

"Do you ever actually watch the road?"

"Sometimes." His voice was hesitant, making me realise that he was serious about this. I sat up straighter.

"So, what did you want to tell me?"

He seemed to think it over for a few moments.

"Well?" I encouraged.

"I can see your dreams, Bella."

Uncounted heartbeats of silence as I tried to understand what he was saying. He kept his eyes on the road.

"What?" My voice was higher than usual, rough and snappy.

"Well, not all of them, really. Just some of them, you know? And I didn't really realise until - "

"Wait a minute. You can see my dreams?" Images of all my creepy, depressing dreams flashed through my mind. _Jesus..._

"Only sometimes."

"How?"

"I don't know. Carlisle thinks I might be able to see them when your mind is especially vulnerable."

"So what did you see?"

He finally looked at me. "Bella..."

"What did you see?"

"Just bits and pieces. Please, don't be upset. It's all right," he entreated, grabbing my hand.

I sat stiffly for a while, looking in his eyes, trying to think of everything I'd dreamed, everything he could have seen. Oh God... Curtains that rustled in the wind. Red, velvet curtains, hanging from a ceiling that was too far up to see...

"Bella?"

Oh God… The knife, and the blood, and the way to end it… I'd actually dreamed of all that. Had he seen it? Is that why Alice believed I would hurt myself?

"Bella?" He squeezed my knee.

I sighed, and flopped back in my seat, my body collapsing like a pudding. "It's okay. I guess I don't want to know."

"I just thought you should know - "

"No, I don't mean that. I mean I don't want to know what you've seen."

"It's all right."

"No, it's not. I don't want you to see how fucked-up I am."

He seemed stunned into silence for a moment. He'd probably never heard me curse.

"You're not."

"I am. But you'd have known that even if you hadn't seen my dreams."

Quiet.

"I love you."

"I know."

I stared outside.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"We've just passed _Parma_."

"Oh." That meant nothing to me.

"Less than two hours to go now."

"Okay."

I stared at the dark flashing by, trying to discern forms of things I could recognise. There was nothing, just my own reflection in the glass, and that wasn't much to look at these days. Too skinny, too pale, too jumpy… And now I was more than a little wary of falling asleep...

Judging by Edward's frequent glances in my direction, he seemed aware of that. After about fifteen minutes, he sighed.

"Bella, please sleep. It's okay. Please don't stop sleeping because of this. I couldn't live with myself."

I bit my lip. "Will you tell me if you've seen anything?"

Our eyes met, brown to bronze.

"Yes," he finally said.

I never knew when sleep overcame reality, when memories overshadowed the present. But it happened all the same.

_"Talk to me," I breathed without opening my eyes. His hand was folded around my hot forehead, sticky with cold sweat._

_"Sorry?"_

_"Tell me something nice."_

_I felt the mattress shift as he straightened his legs. We were lying next to each other, here in this crappy hospital bed, him with his arms around me, his cool body against mine. Trying to cool me down._

_"I can't think of anything."_

_"Come on," I tried to smile. "You're a you-know-what. Your brain works wonders."_

_"Bella - "_

_"Tell me where we'll go."_

_He kissed my forehead with cold lips. It was heaven..._

_"You haven't changed your mind?"_

_"No," I exclaimed, swallowing painfully, then coughing fitfully. How long was this going to go on? I'd just gotten over my last fever, and now I had another one..._

_When the coughing fit was over, I gripped his shirt, and pulled it. "Come on," I croaked. "I haven't changed my mind. I want to see the world. See something outside this tiny patch of land I've been cooped up in..."_

_His hand was gently stroking my back now, and I revelled in the feeling. I felt so safe here in his arms, protected by him even though he couldn't fight away the fever._

_"Come on," I whispered. "Take me away..."_

_He kissed the tip of my nose, then spoke._

_"Well then, I'd take you to lake Como, of course."_

_I smiled against his neck. "Of course."_

_His voice, amused until then, took on a wistful tone as he went on. "We'd book a flight to Milan, if we could still get one. Florence, otherwise."_

_I tried to picture it, but couldn't. I'd never been further east than Albuquerque._

_"I'd carry all our luggage, and keep your hand in mine. We'd drive to the house we would have bought there, and I would carry you over the threshold, like you were mine."_

_I kissed the stone skin of his neck. "I _am_ yours."_

_His fingers were under my chin, nudging my face up. I opened my eyes and found his staring straight into mine. "Are you?" he whispered, so vulnerable all of a sudden._

_I frowned. "What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing," he muttered quietly. "I just never really knew - I mean I didn't just assume you'd take me back. And you needed time."_

_"I do. But I'm yours," I whispered. "I always have been. Don't you see that?"_

_He gave me a watery smile. "You were so mad at me," he breathed, closing his eyes, agony distorting his face. "You were cold. Distant. And every day you slipped further away from me." He hugged me tighter. "An now you're ill, and underweight, and Carlisle's thinking of - "_

_"But I'm still here," I interrupted him, and he opened his eyes. "Just take me away, Edward."_

_And so, barely a week later, by the time I'd gotten out of the hospital, we'd convinced Charlie, and Carlisle, and started packing._

A cold hand prevented me from slamming forward as the car came to an abrupt stop.

"Sorry," he mumbled, releasing me when I'd found my balance again. A car going in the opposite direction passed us by with just a few inches to spare. "The roads are rather narrow here."

"It's all right," I muttered, rubbing my face, watching our surroundings. High brick walls on either side of the road, green vines climbing their surfaces. "We're nearly there?"

"Yes. We're nearly there."

Flowers of nervous anticipation blossomed in my belly. Things had gone so fast these last few days I'd barely had time to spend much thought on this, but now it was really going to happen. In a few minutes we'd arrive at the house we'd rented - not bought, as I'd drawn the line at that - and where we were going to spend at least the next two weeks.

"Are you exited?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Your heart rate just picked up quite a bit," he grinned. I was unable to see much of where we were, but I thought I could sometimes see flashes of a big black mass on our right.

"Is that the lake?"

"Yes, it is. You'll be able to see in the morning."

_Laglio_. I repeated it in my mind. That was the name of the tiny town we'd live near. _Laglio_...

We abruptly turned right, going almost in the complete opposite direction of where we'd been going, this road being even narrower than the one before. After a few minutes, we turned left, then almost immediately turned right again, and followed the dark road until we suddenly slowed down and Edward fit the car into a parking space that had seemed far too small to me.

"This is it?" I couldn't really see anything yet, but asked all the same.

"This is it."

He opened my door for me and helped me out. My limbs were stiff and tired, so it took me quite a bit of effort to stand. When I finally managed it however, I could discern an iron gate in the darkness. The lock creaked as Edward turned the key.

"Come," he said softly, "let's get you to bed. I can see how exhausted you are."

"What about the luggage?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll get the bags later."

He took my hand and led me through the gate and down a gravel pathway. The adrenaline that had kept me awake until now faded while we walked, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my eyes open as we reached the front door. When I stumbled over the doorstep, he took me in his arms and carried me through the rooms which I'd been dying to see for real, but which blurred past me now, going completely unnoticed.

"The sheets are clean," he mumbled as he laid me down on a bed, took off my shoes and covered me with a blanket. I couldn't even see the room we were in as he hadn't turned on the lights, but it didn't really matter.

My eyes wouldn't open anyway.

He kissed my forehead softly. "Sleep now," he breathed against my skin, then stroked my hair.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Here I am again ;-) It's been a while, so I hope you're still with me! Not much action in this chapter, but I thought it was necessary to give you an update on Edward's state of mind ;-)

I posted a teaser for this chapter on TwilightAwards. I'm not sure if any of you have seen that, but if you'd like to read teasers on every chapter from now on, let me know, and I'll post them there.

Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter! I love reading and receiving them, and they give me great ideas :-D

* * *

As my lips caressed her forehead and my hands brushed through her hair, I knew that this was it.

This was the part where the story could go either way. _Our_ story could go either way. Here, at Lake Como, she could find the peace and solitude she needed, the rest to find herself and her way into the future, or she could lose her rhythm even more than she had already, and lose herself. No matter what happened, the same would happen to me.

It was risky, and I knew that. This was the moment when the main characters either made everything right, or broke everything down. This was the parting of the ways, the proverbial crossroads, the bloody end of the line, and we could either fall or fly.

"Sleep now," I whispered against her skin, trying to urge her body to succumb to the slumber it so badly needed, and it seemed like it did, for once. Her heart rate dropped, her breathing slowed, and as I leaned back I saw that her lovely face relaxed until she looked almost peaceful.

She slept.

My shoulders sagged as relief bubbled through me, and I sat down in a chair beside the bed, making no noise whatsoever.

This could go either way, but at least for now, she slept. She was okay. She was here, under my very nose, after a day where nothing had gone wrong. She hadn't tripped and broken any bones. She hadn't fallen, and gotten a bruise, or a cut. She hadn't bled today, or cried today, and she hadn't fallen ill today.

I had managed.

To keep her safe.

She was safe here, tucked away in this bed beside me, where I could keep an eye on her. I could defend her if she was threatened, hold her if she was scared, but for now, she was just sleeping. For now, I felt like we had taken the right road, the road to salvation - so to speak - and all was well.

All was well.

I repeated it to myself a few times, trying to dismiss the worry, the constant doubt clogging my reason. All was well, I persisted in my mind. She was here. I was with her. She had no fever. She was sleeping.

That last argument did the trick. It brought me some sense of security, of comfort easing the nerves curling in my stomach. Yes. She'd hardly slept during the last few weeks, had probably hardly slept during the last few months, yet she'd been unable to keep awake as soon as we got off the plane. The memory of the way she'd slumbered with her head resting on my shoulder while we were waiting to reclaim our luggage made me smile in the darkness. Yes. We'd made the right decision, coming here.

I bent forward and kissed her forehead again. "You'll be all right," I whispered, and tentatively stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers. "I'll keep you safe."

Her eyelids fluttered, making her eyelashes dance in the long shadows of the moon that shone through the window, and I swiftly drew back, not wanting to disturb her. She was exhausted. She needed to sleep.

I stood up and walked towards the French doors, taking a moment to admire the dark green glow of the garden and the tall cypresses that surrounded it on the farther side. Turning my head to the right, I could see the still water of the lake as the moon made it seem like soft and flowing silver. We'd fit in just fine here. As there were no close neighbours on either side of the property I wouldn't have to stay inside every day the sun shone, and the garden held plenty of shadowy spots where I could go if boats happened to pass nearby.

We'd be fine.

I closed the curtains and turned around to look at the small girl in the bed. The small woman, really, who held my heart in the palms of her tiny, breakable hands. She was sleeping soundly and hadn't moved an inch, as she never did these days. At least, not in the first few hours of the night. Having tucked her in for about a week now, I'd found out that you could put her to bed in any position and she still wouldn't move a muscle. Like the day I'd come back and Jacob had just about thrown her on the bed, she'd lain there all twisted limbs and strange angles.

I stopped that line of thought. _It won't do to dwell in the past and forget the present,_ Carlisle had said. Remembering I promised to call him once we'd arrived, I strode out of the bedroom, through the hallway, and out the front door. It was warm here, the weather so much softer than in Forks, the air carrying a much stronger scent of spring than anywhere else I'd recently been.

Or perhaps I just hadn't noticed. Being so lost in my own grief during the months I'd been away, I doubted I had noticed anything but the agonising pain of losing Bella.

Retrieving my phone from the car and slinging Bella's backpack over my shoulder, I dialled his number while lifting our baggage out of the trunk. It only rang twice before he answered.

"Edward." I could hear rain pattering against glass, Esme whispering in the background...

"Carlisle, we've arrived."

"How is she?"

"She's sleeping." Having emptied the trunk, I closed it and strolled away from the car, through the gate and entering the garden.

"Good. Did she eat?"

"Yes. She ate on the plane. I wanted to stop at a restaurant on the way here, but she fell asleep as soon as we got in the car." I passed the side of the house, and walked across the lawn towards the lake.

"A big breakfast in the morning, then."

"Yes. I've arranged for supplies."

"Good." He release his breath in one long, drawn out sigh. I frowned, looking out over the water as it shimmered in the dark.

"Were you worried?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "I care for her. We all do."

"I know," I murmured. If only Bella would believe it... "How's Esme?"

"She's fine," he sighed. "A bit upset, still. She'd have liked to have said goodbye to her. Wished her a pleasant stay."

"I'm sorry." I turned my back on the lake, leaning against the railing, looking at the house. Hearing the beat of her heart.

"Don't be. Bella didn't want to see her, as is her right."

"Perhaps she just needs some time."

"Oh, I'm sure of it."

"She didn't want to see you at first, remember? And that's going a lot better now."

"Yes... I'd like to know why, though."

"Well," I began, "I can guess..."

"We all can, Edward. But we shouldn't."

"No," I conceded, humbled, "we shouldn't." Bella's motives and thoughts always proved to be completely different from what we'd expected. It drove me crazy, and made me love her all the more.

"Well, then, I'll hear from you soon, I hope?"

"Of course."

"Remember, as soon as she stops responding, take a syringe and inject it in a vein."

"Yes." Although I had two medical degrees, I'd actually practiced this before we left.

"And make sure she eats and drinks enough."

"Yes."

"And try and come up with some sort of routine with which she feels comfortable. Encourage her to start reading again. Let her find joy."

"We've been over this," I muttered, bemused by his uncharacteristically insistent manner of speaking. "I know what to do."

It was silent at his end for a short second. The rain kept pattering against the windows. At least the weather was better here...

"Yes," Carlisle eventually said. "Sorry."

I chuckled. "Don't be. Slight hysteria where Bella is concerned appears to be a family trait."

He chuckled as well. "Perhaps, yes. I'd better leave you to it, then."

"All right," I agreed, though I wondered exactly what he'd leave me to. There wasn't that much for me to do while Bella was asleep. I started to walk back towards the house, enjoying the warm wind that ruffled over the lake and through the trees. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodnight, Edward. Give my regards to Bella, will you?"

"I will. And tell Esme I love her."

"Will do."

I hung up, having reached the car again, and picked up the luggage, wondering if the refrigerator would be stocked, like I'd asked. I didn't want to leave Bella alone on our first morning here to go shopping for groceries. Depositing the bags in the hall, I headed back to the bedroom first, just to be sure she was okay.

She was, of course. She lay in exactly the same position as before, her lovely hair a dark cloud around her pale face, her lips slightly apart, her chest rising and falling evenly in time with her breathing.

She was fine. She was beautiful.

I waited for a few moments, curious to know if I'd be able to see anything tonight, any flashes of her dreams, but to no avail. Having shared a few conversations about this with Carlisle, I'd still come no further to understanding why or when I would see her dreams, and why or when I wouldn't. Carlisle still thought it happened when her mind was most vulnerable, but I didn't think that was it. Her mind was vulnerable all the time these days - or at least I thought so - and it would be more probable that something must cause her to let down her defences, so to speak, which had always prevented me from seeing her dreams before.

Yes, that was my theory, for the moment at least. I _had_ finally told her, as I still thought it the right thing to do, so that seemed to be all I _could_ do, now. Forming theories as to how and why and when...

I left the room again and headed towards the kitchen, admiring the general splendour of the richly adorned rooms as I passed through them. She'd like it, hopefully. Probably, as she'd already seen the pictures on the internet when we'd searched for a suitable place to stay.

The kitchen was larger by far than the one my family had in Forks, and as it was stocked for two instead of one, the fridge contained more than enough to last her a couple of days. That was good. I wouldn't have to go out in the morning, and she'd hopefully eat enough to gain some of the weight she'd lost. I made to close the door, but hadn't done so before her heartbeat accelerated dramatically, making me turn on my heel and rush through the dark corridors, listening, but not as panicked as the first time it had happened. Limbs rubbing against sheets, irregular breathing, her voice breaking the silence, rough, scared. All the usual signs.

"Edward?"

I was there as she croaked my name, and found her sitting up straight in bed, disoriented in the darkness, her fear so pronounced I could nearly taste it in the air. I turned the lights on, causing her to blink, shade her eyes with her hand.

"I'm here," I murmured from the doorway. Her eyes found me instantly, and as soon as she'd taken a look at me, she flopped back down on the bed, her hair blossoming on her pillow.

"Oh thank God," she sighed, and hid her face in her hands. I walked towards her, listened to her heartbeat slow down, her breathing go normal, her fear to dissipate, before I asked the question I asked every time.

"What was it about?"

I turned off the big overhead lights and switched on the one on her bedside cabinet, then sat beside her, reaching out to stroke her hair. It wasn't as soft as it usually was, tangled by the journey of the day, and that of the night.

"It was the same."

"I'd thought so."

Her eyes opened then, imploring me with unexpected fervour. "Join me?"

"If you want." I gave her a small smile, and she scooted backwards, making room for me in the bed. Taking off my shoes, emptying my pockets, I slid under the covers beside her, lying down on my side, facing her. She did the same, and we stared at each other for a moment.

"You still won't tell me?"

She shook her head. I sighed, then carefully took her hand, making her shuffle closer towards me, bringing her body in contact with mine.

"Sleep, then..." I murmured. She closed her eyes, and I wondered why she wouldn't tell me what her dream, her nightmare, really, was about. She'd admitted she had the same one every night since the first time at Charlie's, when she'd jumped out of bed, vomited into the toilet and took off all her clothes in front of me to take a shower.

Her breathing slowed, alerting me that she'd fallen asleep again, enabling me to step away from that seductive line of thought long enough to reach behind me and cloak the room in darkness once again, and while I buried my face in her hair the thoughts returned.

Thoughts of her pyjama bottoms, sliding down her behind, down her long, long, long legs, through her feet. Thoughts of that creamy line of visible skin that became ever bigger as she pulled her top over her head, the gentle curve of her spine, silky skin stretching over her shoulder blades, the suggestion of pink made by just the side of her breasts as her arms lifted, and her naked back, the glorious vision of her naked back. Oh, oh she'd become so thin, so achingly skinny, but all I saw in that moment was the breathtaking beauty of her naked body.

It had lasted just a moment though. The sight had been replaced swiftly by the grey drabness of the polyester shower curtain.

Thankfully.

I swallowed. It was wrong to think of her like that, especially since... Since what? Since she had nightmares every night? Since she was terrifyingly thin and alarmingly light to carry? Since we hadn't kissed properly since that time she hit me and broke her hand? No quickening heartbeats, no blushing, even? Since she'd been diagnosed as suffering from catatonic schizophrenia? Since in short, she was so damaged by what I'd done to her?

Yes. Those were reasons enough.

And apart from that, she was holding back. Although she let me hold her, and was obviously comforted by my presence, she never smiled as uninhibitedly as before, never blushed, never told me what she was thinking. She was holding back parts of herself, keeping me at a distance at the same time, and I hadn't yet found out how to get closer to her.

I kissed her hair, breathing in her flowery, alluring fragrance. No matter how damaged she was, she was a bit better now. She let me hold her. And she didn't want to hurt herself anymore; she wanted to live.

_I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die. I want to be with you._

She'd said it herself, and to prove it she'd walked three miles with a bleeding hand and on an empty stomach. When Alice and I had followed her scent - provided by her trail of blood - the morning after she'd been admitted to the hospital, we were struck dumb by the sheer distance she'd actually walked in that condition. We'd eventually found her truck parked by the side of the road, just a few yards away from the main culprit - the broken bottle of beer. It was distressing to find it covered in her blood, but we'd focused on towing her truck to our house, being unable to start the engine.

Like I'd been unable, once again, to keep her safe. After Carlisle called me with the news, I'd cursed myself over and over while I ran back through trees and shrubberies that had previously marked my hunting grounds, through the sliding doors and from there on following her scent through the hospital.

Where I found her lying on a stretcher, paler than I'd ever seen her, covered in blood, and apologising.

_Apologising_.

I shook my head on the pillow. The thought still made me cringe with shame. I'd left her alone and vulnerable when she was sick, when she'd been unable to contact any of us and had been forced to walk three miles in the dead of night while she was hurt and bleeding.

And she apologised for it.

When Carlisle was actually thinking of drip-feeding her because she'd lost so much weight since the last time he carried her, she'd _apologised_ to me.

My fingers curled in frustration, and I hastily let go of her hand, reminding myself of Carlisle's advice again.

_It won't do to dwell in the past and forget the present._

No. That wouldn't do. And as the night passed me by and changed to dawn, I did not get lost in sombre memories and bitter outlooks.

The only thing I did was whisper 'I love you' in her hair.

And hope that today, perhaps, she'd finally say it back.

* * *

AN: So, there's hope on the horizon! ;-) Thank you for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Finally! Chapter 17, about time eh?

I hope you all had a happy Christmas, Hannukka or holidays, and I'd like to wish you all the very best for the year to come. Hopefully, this slightly merrier chapter will bring you all some holiday cheer ;-)

Thanks for your reviews on the last chapter! I'd love to know what you think of this chapter, as I found it rather hard to write a bit of decent fluff...

* * *

Eyes opening.

The brightness of a beam of glowing, silver light in the surrounding darkness.

Dust in tiny particles, dancing through space. Until my closing eyes made them disappear.

The darkness was softer now, with the waking world ignored, forgotten as if it'd been the dream I was dreaming while snoozing out of time and space into a place where all was well, undefined and uncomplicated.

Sounds, now. Gentle breathing breaking the silence of the room, the supposed stillness of my mind as he lay beside me.

Eyes opening, seeing a graceful curve of gold, a thin band revolving around itself, until it stretched out of sight with my closing eyes, and out of mind as I drifted, embracing the deep dark.

Though I wasn't ready to wake up, my eyes flickered open again for just a second, curiously following the gold band above me as it stretched and curved to form a flower, and leaves, and stems connecting it to other flowers, until its intricacy became too vast for me to handle before properly waking up. My eyes closed on their own.

Limbs stretching, disappearing in the warm, cosy softness all around me. The way the pillow seemed to swallow my cheek as I nuzzled it, its down enveloping me. A good, good bed…

And a chuckle from the man next to me as I realised I must have said at least some of that out loud. I groaned softly, rolled over to lie on my side, and shuffled in the direction of his voice until my bare feet came in contact with his, eliciting a short, small shiver of surprise, and then a sigh of comfort against his chest.

Breathing him in…

"Good morning," he whispered, as soft as the down. I kept my eyes closed, wanting to stay in this lovely land of peace and dreams for just a little while longer.

"Good morning," I murmured against his chest, hesitating briefly before grabbing the seam of his shirt, holding him as closely as I dared. "This is a _great_ bed. Compared to this, I don't even _have_ a bed in Forks…"

Laughter made his chest shake slightly as he cradled my head and kissed my hair.

"I'm glad it's good. Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm…" I sighed in delight, stretching again, sliding my legs against his. He was wearing jeans, I noted hazily.

"Is that a yes?"

"Mm.."

"Is that a yes?" he persisted.

"I haven't slept this good in ages. It's a yes."

I felt his smile against my hair.

"Good. I'm glad," he said again.

We lay together like that for a while, and I marvelled at the way he still made me feel safe, treasured, cocooned, even after all that had happened. I tentatively released my grip on his shirt to place my hand flat against his chest, feeling his skin beneath his shirt, trying to ignore my unsteady heart as it beat wildly at this unprecedented level of contact I'd initiated since he'd come back.

Like my heartbeat, his breathing changed its rhythm as well, albeit for just a few seconds before I felt the small bout of tension leaving his body, and his hand settling in the curve of my waist.

I sighed in pure contentment.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me after a while.

"Not yet," I whispered, carefully trailing my fingers up his chest, finally opening my eyes to softly caress the line of his jaw with my fingertips. "I want to stay in bed for a while," I murmured, giving him a small smile as I stroked his cheek, making him close his eyes and tilt his head towards my fingers. My eyes darted briefly towards his lips, then back towards his closed eyes, making sure he hadn't seen my hesitation, but I was still drowsy enough to make one finger trace them as well.

Automatically, it seemed, his lips puckered and brought a small kiss to my fingertip, startling me. I pulled my hand back, but before I could even start the movement he had grabbed my hand without opening his eyes, and began kissing every one of my fingers.

"Don't," he muttered between kissing my index and middle finger. "Don't pull away."

I didn't, and when he turned my hand around and placed an open kiss on the middle of my palm, I knew I couldn't. Instead, I just looked at every angle of his face while he lay back down on the pillow, pulling me with him to lie with my head on his shoulder.

"You're beautiful," I whispered, and flushed immediately.

He opened his eyes and smiled in a way that made me want to crawl inside him and never come out.

"Thank you," he grinned, "but not as beautiful as you."

I rolled my eyes and nuzzled closer to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Really, he shouldn't tell me that sort of thing.

"So, what time is it?" I changed the subject.

"It's just after eleven."

Eleven?

"When did we get here?"

"About nine p.m. Why?"

"That means I slept for fourteen hours," I realised incredulously, sitting up in bed and looking at all three windows in turn. The curtains in front of the French windows opposite the bed weren't completely closed, and I squinted at the small sliver of daylight that crept in through their opening, cocking my head to the side. A green glow, and a mass of blue that just had to be the sky.

The sky, but without the usual grey clouds that hid it from view.

And grass, but speckled with dew that glimmered in the sunlight.

"What the hell…" I muttered.

"What?" His voice was curious, with a touch of concern.

"I've woken up to sunlight." How long had that been now? Even if the sun had shined in Forks for more than a few days a year, I'd never slept that late to give it a chance to rise before waking up. I pushed the blankets off and clambered on top of them to sit at the foot of the bed, my legs dangling off the edge, looking at that small sliver of sunlight beaming into the room.

Biting my lip to stop my smile from breaking out all over my face.

My toes touched the hardwood floor, and I tentatively rose to my feet, padding softly towards that gap between the curtains, reaching forward to open them wider.

The sight that met me made my breath catch a bit.

Rising and falling with the gentle curves of the land, a green lawn met a line of trees and stretched out of sight, while right in front of me, a wooden deck, and a small track and stone steps leading down towards a small dock, providing access to the lake I'd dreamt of, going on forever until the water, glowing in the sunlight, met the opposite bank far across. Houses near the waterfront, and further up, villas like tiny specks scattered throughout the surrounding hills.

Curiosity bubbling now, I turned to the other windows and opened their curtains too, admiring the view that each of them brought, until the antique wooden desk caught my attention and I turned around to admire not only the outdoors, but the indoors as well.

The golden flowers I had noticed while still half asleep I now recognized as being part of the high ceiling, painted in a rather curious, if not to say rather _kitschy_ fashion. A big, impressive wardrobe in the far corner, quite old-fashioned, and a pair of plush armchairs on either side of the big, white, simple but modern and overly comfortable bed.

And in the bed a creature that defied imagination and possessed the beauty that even a score of male models would die for. And he was watching _me_.

I smiled shyly, glad he couldn't hear my thoughts. Or had he?

"What is it?" he asked.

"You didn't see my dreams?"

"No," he declared, surprised. "I promised you I'd tell you if I did."

"Oh yes," I grinned, relieved. Good thing, too... I padded towards the door, opened it, and peered into the hall. "Did you see the rest of the house?" I asked him, still looking up and down the hall, taking stock of the small number of closed doors adjoining it, and at its end a larger room and another pair of French doors.

"Not really," I heard him say from behind me. "Just the hall, really, and the kitchen." I turned around to look at him. He was standing beside the bed now, hands in his pockets, making him look strangely lost in that familiar way. "I unloaded our baggage," he shrugged, "but I stayed with you, mostly."

"Doesn't that get boring?" I wondered aloud, watching the bed and imagining having to stay there for fourteen hours without having anything to do.

When I looked back at him, he was frowning at me.

"No," he said quietly, looking away and out of the window. "I like watching you sleep, remember?"

I swallowed, and looked at my feet, admonishing myself for my slip-up. I _did_ remember, but in these past few months I'd grown so accustomed to undermining everything he had ever said to me before he'd gone away that it took some time to get used to the idea that the relationship we'd had had been the truth, and that his reasons for leaving had been the lie.

Not the other way around.

I cleared my throat, and looked up at him. He did the same.

"I _do_ remember," I admitted softly. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

We gazed at each other.

And my humanity broke the spell.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?"

I needed a shower, and a toothbrush, and fresh clothes, and a hairbrush.

"It's down the hall. Go left, then the first door on the right. Your bags are near the front door."

I nodded, and slipped out of the room.

ooo000ooo

Although the house breathed antiquity and an unspecified old-world charm, the bathroom seemed designed specifically for the well-to-do traveller desiring to luxuriate in the comforts of modern-day life. After enjoying the services of, successively, the state-of-the-art-shower which, after turning it on, poured down such excessive amounts of water that I hesitated a while before daring to brave the onslaught, the impressive assortment of body products in the vanity cabinet, and the super-duper hairdryer which blew my hair into submission in just a few minutes, I emerged from its confines a new woman.

Walking down the hall towards the French doors, opening them silently and stepping outside. The view over the lake was fantastic, but as the sun shone over my face I closed my eyes all the same, raised my face towards it, and let out a deep, deep sigh.

Breathing out. And breathing in. Basking in the sun, enjoying the warmth it gave, so relatively early in the year. No need for sweaters here...

"There you are," I heard behind me, and felt a hand on my shoulder. "I made you breakfast."

I turned around. The tray he held in one hand was covered with a linen napkin, and he took my hand in his as he started walking towards the deck I'd seen from the bedroom, placing the tray on the table and taking a seat opposite mine. I drank him in, looking as fresh as ever even though he hadn't changed his clothes or taken a shower yet.

"Well, tuck in," he encouraged with a smile, and I carefully lifted the napkin to reveal a ham and cheese omelette, one glass filled with juice and one with milk, and a number of thin slices of bread topped with all sorts of ham and cheeses I didn't readily recognise.

I blinked at him. "Um... I'm not sure I'll be able to eat all this in one go," I muttered, admiring the omelette while at the same time estimating that at least three eggs must have gone into it.

"That's all right," he smiled, folding his hands underneath his chin to watch me, "we have all day. Just try and eat most of it."

And so I did. I started with the eggs, then slowly worked my way through the sandwiches – Italian style, of course – all the while looking at the lake and the garden, enjoying my first morning in Italy.

Eating more than I'd done the past months, discovering that I'd never been hungrier, and enjoying the strange, slightly disconcerting feeling of being in a completely unfamiliar environment.

"Is it okay?"

"It's great," I grinned, sipping the freshly squeezed orange juice. "Did you go shopping for groceries?"

"Of course not. The fridge was stocked on our arrival. I wouldn't leave you alone."

I choked on the juice, coughing and breaking the crisp morning stillness. He reached forward to steady my shoulders as his face fell simultaneously, in understanding.

"Not here, I mean," he added softly, lowering his hands and clasping them tightly together. "I wouldn't leave you alone _here_, on the first night we got here."

"I understand," I coughed, blood rushing to my face. "It's okay."

He gave me a tight smile, then looked away, a cloudy expression on his lovely face. I drained my juice and sat back in my seat, fully satisfied, well-nourished, waiting for him to come back to me.

Watching him while enjoying the slight, balmy breeze and the sun on my skin. The springs here seemed to be as warm as the summers were in Forks.

But it took too long for me.

"Edward."

His eyes met mine.

"It's okay, really," I muttered softly.

He cocked his head to the side, and suddenly all the remorse, the guilt, the anger showed through.

"I am _so_ sorry," he whispered.

"You left," I acknowledged, reaching over the table and covering his hands with my own. "It's true, it's done." I smiled at him, stroked his cheek. "But you came back. That's the important part."

He gave a small smile in return, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Besides," I added, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, "if you hadn't left and come back, we never would have made it here," I vaguely gestured in the direction of the lake and the house on either side of us.

This time, the smile _did_ reach his eyes, albeit just for a short second.

"True," he acknowledged, sitting back as well, turning his chair to face the water, folding his legs. "It _is_ quite a view, isn't it?"

"Quite," I grinned, echoing his slightly archaic vocabulary which sometimes reminded me that Edward really was from a different era. He turned to me.

"What do you want to do today?"

I bit my lip.

"Not too much, I think. Unbelievably, I'm already rather tired," I stretched in my chair and turned my face towards the sun again.

"It's completely understandable," Edward pushed his chair back and got up to clear the table. "You haven't slept properly for a long time. And you might still have a jetlag.

I got up as well and took the tray, trailing after him into the house.

"Perhaps I could start by choosing a book. You know, from that pile of classics we bought in Port Angeles."

"Good idea."

"What would _you_ like to do?" I asked him as we entered the enormous kitchen, which I decided to admire another day, and loaded everything into the dishwasher. How convenient to have one of these in here...

"Reading sounds good."

"Did you bring any books?"

"A fair few," he admitted, washing his hands after I'd done the same. "I'm just going to take a shower before I'll join you." He smiled, looked at me for a second, then bent down and kissed my cheek, leaving a tingling spot behind.

It took a while before I was able to nod at his back. Watching him retreat down the hall, I absentmindedly started to rummage through my baggage in hunt for a good book while trying to ignore all the tantalising images that flitted through my mind at the thought of Edward taking a shower.

ooo000ooo

And just like that, a pattern evolved.

After several long hours of sleep – which were sometimes as peaceful as sleep could be, and sometimes riddled with disconcerting dreams – I'd dream while waking up, having Edward by my side. We'd lie together for a while before I got up to take a shower.

Never a bath, as I'd developed an aversion to bathing since the uncanny incident the first day he'd been back.

Emerging from the bathroom wearing flip-flops, a top or shirt and light summer trousers from Phoenix, I'd find Edward waiting with breakfast, each culinary creation more sumptuous than the last. He seemed hell-bent on getting me to eat, but the amazing thing was that I felt no aversion to eating everything he put in front of me.

And when I'd finished, and carried everything to the kitchen, I'd feel his eyes roam over me, feel his smile crackling in the space between us.

I felt good.

Then, after filling the dishwasher, he'd take a shower, and I wandered around the house and through the garden, just looking around, admiring the view. Doing nothing.

Strangely enough, I came to realise during these short few moments of aimless wandering that perhaps it was the fact that I didn't _have_ to do anything that made me feel so much better. Time to look around, not to make plans, to admire and just feel, and not worry about the housework, or Charlie, or school.

I never would have guessed that a change of environment could bring so much peace of mind.

Because that's what this was. I'd thought I'd experienced the feeling a few times in Forks, but now I began to suspect that I'd been far too caught up in my own small life and dreams – and the subsequent smattering thereof – to ever feel anything like it.

Perhaps now I did.

Who knew?

Whatever the case should be, the freedom to do nothing really consequential made me feel good, brought me a sense of ease and solitude. After wandering around for a while, I'd choose a secluded spot in the garden – usually on the lawn - to spend the day reading, sipping iced tea or some sort of juice that Edward would give me after joining me, reading several books of his own at supernatural speed.

I was slower, of course. That first morning, I'd finally decided on _Vanity Fair_, not realising that the whole thing was more than seven hundred pages long and that I was still too impressed by everything new and wonderful I found lurking around me to have much concentration left for reading. Then, there would be lunch, and dinner, choosing a movie from the impressive collection present in the living room, and before I knew it Edward would carry me to bed before the credits rolled.

Sleeping, as it turned out, was easy to do, even after months of insomnia. Getting the hang of reading, on the other hand, proved a bit more daunting. Nevertheless, naive Amelia Sedley and selfish Becky Sharp managed to capture my attention, and in the course of a few days I'd turned a fair number of pages.

Thus things progressed timidly, bobbing up and down on the gentle waves of our daily pattern, until, on the fourth morning after our arrival, Amelia lost George to a family dispute, and I read the pages concerned with that 'catastrophe' in silent astonishment.

"Oh," I whispered, staring at the page.

Rustling of pages, and then his voice.

"Bella?"

"Oh. I see."

"Bella?"

I looked up at him, the book falling uselessly to my lap.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews on the last chapter! I hope you like this one as well :-) Just so you know, things will speed up again after this chapter, as I'm working towards the end of this story. No worries: I won't be getting into any rushed endings ;-)

So, another cliffhanger at the end of this chapter! My apologies in advance, but at least this one is a real one ;-)

* * *

Her voice was small, soft, breaking the silence around us in such a gentle way.

"Oh," she whispered, and I looked up at her as she stared at her book, a look of silent astonishment on her face.

Bending over the armrest, I lay my book open on the ground, and sat up straighter.

"Bella?"

"Oh. I see." She said it calmly, pronounced the words like they were empty, meaningless vowels and consonants merely meant to fill a gap.

The panic started.

Emptiness – check.

"Bella?"

Our eyes met then, and I was relieved to see a source of life, a spark in them. The spark that was Bella.

But her hands grew limp, and the book fell to her lap.

Loss of command – check. I was by her side and shaking her shoulders before I knew it.

"Bella? Bella, talk to me," I entreated, forcefully this time, watching her eyes for the disappearance of the spark as they glazed a bit.

The syringes – in my suitcase, in the bedroom.

Her gaze slid over the book once again before her eyes met mine.

"I'm bloody Amelia," she proclaimed in a matter-of-fact voice.

I stared at her, too dumbstruck and relieved to say anything at first. She raised an eyebrow, daring me, challenging me to react, to contradict what she'd said.

"I'm sorry?" I shook my head, trying to clear it, still holding her by her shoulders, feeling her warmth in my skin, in my bones, while my brain rebooted.

Jesus Christ...

"I said, I'm bloody Amelia Sedley, Edward," she snapped, apparently completely at unawares of the mental breakdown I was having. "You know, the stupid coot who completely breaks down because George Osborne broke up with her?"

My mind snapped to attention, and I was nearly surprised that I didn't emit an audible beep. _Reset complete_.

"What?"

She huffed impatiently, and grabbed the book on her lap.

"I mean George Osborne, Edward. George. Osborne, for God's sake. Listen to this," she ruffled through the pages, rudely slapping them around to find the one she was looking for. "Her father's gone bankrupt and they're changing houses, but the only thing she's doing is thinking about her bloody George. _'So she changed from the large house to the small one without any mark or difference; remained in her little room for the most part; pined silently; and died away day by day'_."

She looked at me again, shaking her head and waving her free hand in an impatient gesture.

"What the hell did you think I did when you were gone?"

She gave me no time to answer, but the hole in my chest was ripping open and I couldn't have given one anyway.

"_I_ pined in my little room, Edward," she snapped, but I just looked at her, how her mouth formed a line that got thinner and thinner as she stared in distaste at the book as if it had personally offended her.

And perhaps it had.

"_I _died away day by day," she exclaimed, "and it just gets worse. She keeps reading his letters and replaying everything he ever did and said, just the way I did. Here; _'It was over these worthless papers that she brooded and brooded. She lived in her past life – every letter seemed to recall some circumstance of it. How well she remembered them all! His looks and tones, his dress, what he said and how – these relics and remembrances of dead affection were all that were left her in the world." _

She stared at the book in silent disgust while I tried to apply the fragment to her own life. I knew the broad lines of what it had been like for her from Charlie's thoughts, but that didn't make the picture complete. And here she was blaming _herself_ for the hurt that _I_ had inflicted on her.

"Bella," I began quietly, "please don't bla- "

"Blame myself?" she interrupted, her eyes flaming. "Of course I blame myself, Edward. You didn't do all that to me, _I _did. You just broke up with me. I reacted this way."

"I _just_ broke up with you?" I repeated incredulously. "Bella, I _broke_ you! Don't try to downplay what I did. Don't try to downplay how much I hurt you!"

"Well yes, Edward, you hurt me, but that's all. You didn't break me, come on! I _let_ myself be broken. I _let_ myself fall apart. You didn't do that. _I_ did. You want to know how I spent the first week after you left?"

"Bella, I - "

"I stayed in bed for a week, Edward. A week. And then I spent the next seven months replaying every conversation we'd ever had, wondering where it all went wrong, wondering when you'd grown tired of me."

"I lied," I began, panicked.

"I know," she quickly reassured me. "I know now," she gave a small smile, and sagged a bit in her seat "But nevertheless..." she trailed off.

We stared at each other while she searched for words. She was breathing heavily, her cheeks pink, and she angrily pushed her sunglasses off her nose and on her head.

"Nevertheless... Amelia is the dumbest, stupidest character of the book – so far, at least – and she's just _exactly_ like me. Now what does that say about me?"

"You're not stupid, nor dumb," I frowned angrily.

"I am. Stupid _and_ - "

"Now don't call yourself that."

"All right then, I'll read on, shall I?" She took up the book and before I could voice any protest started reading again. "'_And the business of her life, was – to watch the corpse of Love. To death she looked with inexpressible longing. Then, she thought, I shall always be able to follow him'."_

She closed the book and held up both her hands, shrugging as if to say 'I rest my case' and waiting for my reaction. But I had too hard a time digesting what she'd implied to give one.

_To death she looked with inexpressible longing. _

"Is that how you felt?" I asked her quietly.

Her face fell, but she hid it well by putting her sunglasses back on. "That's not the point," she exclaimed brusquely.

"I think it is."

She let out an exasperated grunt. "Well, I started driving motorcycles to hear your voice, didn't I? I jumped off a goddamn _cliff _because I wanted to retain that tiny piece of you that I still had. Like Amelia looked to death with longing because she thought that then she'd always be able to follow him? Isn't that exactly the same?"

I looked at her, wondering if it was.

"I mean, I knew there'd be a bloody big chance that jumping off a cliff in that kind of weather might kill me," she muttered moodily. "I even stopped swimming."

A beat of silence to digest.

"You stopped swimming?" I whispered.

Her shoulders sagged, and she looked down, at her hands.

"Bella?"

She took her sunglasses off again, and looked at me straight, biting her lip.

"I did, I think." Her eyes drifted, seeing things far away. "When I saw you, in the water. That was enough for me."

We both looked out over the lake. My mind reeled. Birds twittered like nothing had changed. The wind blew her scent to me like nothing had changed, and I imagined her in the water, her skin pale as death, her hair floating uselessly, her hands stretched towards a hand that would never save her. Her empty, dead eyes.

"Stupid coot," she muttered after a while, bringing both of us back.

"Please don't call yourself names," I admonished.

"Seriously, Edward. Me and Amelia, we stopped living because we got dumped. We stopped living because we had an idea of what love should be like, and we lost that."

Another stretch of silence.

"Well, at least I've picked the better man to love."

I blinked at her, stunned. She didn't seem to notice the significance of what she'd said, but my world changed in response to it, gaining colour and radiance until it was shining and swirling. I grinned at her, feeling insanely happy and only listening cursorily to her comparison of me to George.

She loved me.

"... a selfish asshole. I mean, I'm not sure how he's going to turn out, but by this point in the story, he's about as shallow as you can get."

She stood up and grabbed her glass, then strode towards the house and into the kitchen.

Bella Swan _loved_ me.

The faucet turned on, water filling a glass, and her soft steps, back outside. She was wearing three-quarter-length baggy jeans and a simple white sleeveless top, her hair flowing thickly down her shoulders.

She looked magnificent.

And she loved me.

ooo000ooo

Waking up next to me, she became more beautiful every morning. Though it was still spring, the days she'd spent reading in the sun had made her glow, her skin shine as I'd never seen before. She hadn't gained any weight as of yet, but at least she'd stopped losing it, and I rejoiced in that fact every evening when I carried her to bed.

The morning after she'd told me she loved me, she woke up smiling.

The joy that brought me made me realise how long it'd been. How much I'd missed seeing her face break into a proper smile, instead of into tears.

We greeted each other quietly, like we'd done since we'd arrived, and exchanged soft smiles, softer touches, being so hesitant still. My hand found the curve of her waist, her hand found its place against my chest, and I asked her how she was feeling. The same routine every morning, and it was wonderful.

But this time she broke it by asking me the same question.

"How are you?"

My surprise must have shown on my face since she continued hastily without awaiting my answer.

"I mean, you always ask me how I'm doing, but I never know how you're doing."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly.

"So?"

I blinked at her.

"How are you doing?" she whispered, a touch of anxiety colouring her voice.

"Well," I began, baffled. "I'm fine."

She raised one brow in scepticism. "Edward, you've forbidden me to use that word."

I rolled my eyes, and traced her lovely lips with my fingers. "I'm good, as well. I love watching you wake up next to me."

She smiled again, and seemed almost relieved.

"Good." Reaching forward, she brushed my hair off my forehead. "That's great." Her relief was obvious in the way she exhaled.

I frowned. "Were you worried? About _me_?"

She blushed. "Um... yes."

"Why?" _On earth? _

"No reason. Just, you know, worried." She shrugged. "Do you want to go out today?"

"Sure. Do you?"

"Well, I thought it might be nice to get out, you know. Discover the lay of the land," she quipped, curling her fingers in imaginary quotation marks.

"Good idea. We can go shopping for groceries, too."

"Cool," she clambered out of bed, tiptoeing across the room and peeking through a pair of curtains. "It's cloudy."

"That's convenient," I got out of bed as well. "Where would you like to go?"

"What's close?"

"Milan's close. Just half an hour away."

"Okay, let's go there. I'll text Charlie," she added as an afterthought, fishing her phone out of her suitcase.

ooo000ooo

"Wow."

I turned my head, looking at her sideways. Wide eyes, lips slightly parted. She glanced at me.

"I mean, wow," she repeated.

"Indeed."

"And that as part of a supermarket..."

True...

"A butcher's seems an inappropriate word for it..." she murmured.

"Well..." My gaze slid over the rows of 'cartilage' hanging from the ceiling, the big chunks of flesh in rows on planks covering the wall, a perfidious odour permeating the air a mile away. "Altogether distasteful, yes."

A playful slap on my arm. "It looks good to me. This Italian meat is wonderful."

"Hmm," I ground out, deciding not to breathe for the moment. This was just too disgusting for words...

"Take a number," she instructed, eyeing the rest of the costumers, all looking appropriately bored as they did their customary shopping.

She glanced at the number on the small white scrap I gave her.

"That's not too bad."

"And this is worth the wait, right?" I grinned painfully.

She wagged her eyebrows. "Yes, it is."

My hand slid down her arm until it met hers. I squeezed it gently. She looked into my eyes for a moment, startled brown to black, seeming to deliberate, making me wonder what was going on inside her head.

Then she stood on her toes, reached up, and softly touched her lips to mine.

It was sweet, and soft, and heaven.

And it was over before I knew it.

But as we waited for our turn, she kept smiling.

ooo000ooo

We went to Milan that day, and explored the towns around lake Como the next. On the third day, the sun shone again, and we agreed to stay at home. She settled down with her book, I settled down with a view of the lake and a view of her.

The day after that, we did the groceries in the morning, then left for Florence, having decided to stay there overnight.

I kissed her once she'd settled in the car and I'd checked to see if she'd fastened her seatbelt.

She kissed me on the A1, right after we passed Santa Maria Maddalena.

After that, I lost track, and kissing seemed all that we did.

Shyly at first, hesitantly after that, but familiarly as well. And each time her smile was lovelier than the last.

And each time her lips seemed softer against mine.

We arrived in Florence just after noon, parked the car in the garage under the hotel, trusted the porter with our luggage, and strolled down towards the city centre. It was busy on the streets, the balmy spring weather attracting other tourists as well, their minds a low rumble that I was able to tune out easily, and I held her close to me, my arm over her shoulder, her arm around my waist, my nose occasionally in her hair. We passed the shops, the small ones at first, the big ones after that, and found ourselves on the Piazza della Signoria, where we ducked under the huge parasols of an outdoor café and took a seat at a table for two.

A copy of Michelangelo's David stood on the far side of the square, surrounded by other marble statues and tourists alike, and only a few yards from the Fountain of Neptune.

"We're in heaven," Bella sighed, the image of utter content. I reached across and squeezed her knee.

"Yes, we are," I agreed quietly, and startled both of us.

She turned to look at me, leaned back slightly in her chair, and perused my face as if she saw me properly for the first time.

"You agree?" Her voice was incredulous.

My gaze slid over her face, then glided over the throngs of tourists ambling and scrambling over the square, the clock tower above the Palazzo Vecchio, the reflection of the black glass that marked the line of expensive shops in one of the sidestreets.

"I think I might," I mumbled. "You wouldn't love someone who belonged in Hell..."

She frowned at me. I stared down at my fingers.

"Well," she muttered after minute, grinning and shrugging her shoulders simultaneously. "This calls for a toast!"

She hailed a waiter, and before I could stop her had ordered two glasses of Prosecco.

"Bella," I started, but, as customary, she interrupted me.

"Don't you worry, Edward," she put a finger on my lips. "I'll drink yours as well."

I laughed out loud. "All right then." I'd be here to look after her, anyway.

She chuckled, and stretched her long legs in front of her.

"How do you even know about Prosecco?"

"Restaurants in Milan."

"Oh, yes." Toasting couples galore... "As long as you eat something. No drinking before lunch," I added mockingly.

"Yes dear," she grabbed my hand, and brought it to her lips.

The waiter arrived with our drinks and placed them on the table, adding some small bowls filled with olives, almonds and some special sort of salami. I ordered her lunch for her, and as soon as he retreated she raised her glass to me.

"Your good health, Mr. Cullen," she grinned, and took a sip. "Mm, that's nice." She speared an olive on a small fork and popped it into her mouth using her teeth. Her eyes closed. "Mmm..."

I chuckled. "It's good?"

"Mmm," she tentatively tried a piece of salami and chewed slowly. "Everything tastes good here, you know. You're missing something," she smacked her lips appreciatively. I'd seldom seen her in such good spirits.

"I'm sure I do," I muttered.

"That reminds me," she said between sips. "You should go hunting soon."

"Oh, it's not really necessary."

"Edward, please. You shouldn't - "

"All right. I'll go once we're back in Laglio."

"Good. Besides, if the local herds here taste as good as everything else does..."

"Well, we can only hope," I grinned.

Our hands clasped beneath the small table, our lips met swiftly above the table, and we both sat back in our seats, discussing what we wanted to see and do.

ooo000ooo

After lunch, we crossed the square and spent the rest of the afternoon at the Galleria degli Uffizi, admiring sculptures and frescoes and standing in front of Botticelli's _The Birth of Venus_ for over half an hour.

"It's lovely to see this for real," Bella had muttered appreciatively, and I'd agreed with her.

After the Uffizi, we'd strolled through the broad streets in search for a nice restaurant. After dinner, I bought her an ice cream in one of the small shops that lined the streets, and she slurped at it happily while we made our way back to the hotel.

She had a nightmare that night, and again the following night when we were back in Laglio. Though she still wouldn't tell me what it was about, she did admit that it was the same every time. While she didn't throw up and rush into the shower like she'd done a few weeks ago, her racing heart and flowing tears made it obvious that the dream still scared her.

I tried talking to her about it, but all she'd let me do was worry. And as she woke up smiling again the following morning, I let my mind and heart be at ease, and we peacefully repeated our morning routine.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"How are you?"

"I'm good."

"Sleep well?"

"Yes. How are you?"

"I'm good, too."

"Will you go hunting today?"

Oh. A divergence. I thought about it for a second. This would have to happen sometime...

"Yes. I think I will."

She pushed herself up and kissed me softly, then slowly grew more confident, her kiss growing bolder. I groaned quietly, and she drew her leg over mine, straddling me and taking my head firmly between her hands. Her hair tickled my face as it formed a curtain around our heads as we kissed, and my hands tentatively found her hips. She was wearing the shirt I'd worn to dinner yesterday evening, utilizing it as an oversized pyjama, and it made me insanely proud that she was wearing something that was mine.

That would claim _her_ as mine.

She pulled back slightly to breathe, her thumbs stroking the line of my jaw as her eyes searched mine.

"I vowed to myself I wouldn't beg," she smiled ruefully, and kissed my forehead. Then she placed her hands flat on my chest, and sat up straight.

We gazed at each other for a few moments while I wondered what she could mean with that, then she clambered off me, breaking our contact, my hands sliding off her hips.

"So I won't," she muttered, more to herself than to me, and padded down the hall and toward the bathroom. The door closed.

But when she strolled back into our room again a few minutes later, it was obvious she hadn't showered. Her long legs were bare as my shirt barely covered her hips, and as she bent forwards to grab a book from one of her bags, an edge of blue lace was tantalizingly revealed.

I narrowed my eyes at her, understanding her game now and being secretly delighted by it. She paid no attention to me, however, and ambled out the door, her copy of _Vanity Fair_ in hand.

When I had my body back under control, I followed her scent towards the kitchen, where she was adding cereal to a bowl of yoghurt.

"Not taking a shower today?" I swallowed.

She glanced at me over her shoulder and gave me a genuine smile.

"No. Maybe later. I'm feeling lazy today."

She grabbed a spoon from the middle drawer and walked outside, stirring her breakfast slowly and coming to a halt in front of the railing that separated our garden from the banks of the lake. Her hair was waving softly in the wind as she slowly licked off the spoon.

"You should have breakfast too," she murmured lowly, looking out over the lake. A shadow had fallen over her light mood.

"I'm going," I reassured her.

She nodded, still not looking at me.

"I'll be back in two hours," I stroked her cheek.

She finally turned to me, and smiled.

"I know." She turned her head sideways and kissed my palm.

ooo000ooo

An hour later, I was done, my stomach fuller than full, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket in the middle of a clearing.

She picked up after the second ring.

"Hey," she breathed, relief heavy in her voice.

"I'm just calling to let you know I'm coming home."

"Good." I could hear her smile. "I missed you, you know."

I laughed. "I missed you too."

"What a pair of softies we are," she mumbled light-heartedly. "You know, I - "

I waited a second.

"Bella?"

A slow rumble of noise at her end told me she'd put the phone down. I frowned.

"Bella? What's going on?"

And then a different voice, sounding further away. Clear, melodious, deep, obviously not belonging to her kind.

But to mine.

"Ah. Good morning, Isabella."

The fraction of a second in which I looked up at crowns of trees, a ray of sunshine beaming through their leaves and straight into my eyes, blinding me.

I ran.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one, so please leave a review :-)

Excerpts from _Vanity Fair_ by William Makepeace Thackeray.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks for your reviews on the last chapter :-D I love reading them.

This chapter was a joint effort, as it were. Many thanks to dear old William Shakespeare, who provided me with two lovely quotes you'll recognise immediately because they're just soooo poetic ;-)

Also, many more thanks to the wonderful **Arabella's**, who kindly helped me vacuum this chapter and who wrote me some lovely sentences. So if you haven't read her story** Rosebud** yet, do take a look!

* * *

Scarlet eyes met mine in the mirror, and I broke off mid-sentence. My body seized in shock as thin lips stretched in recognition and bared a row of perfect white teeth.

"Bella?"

My hand grew cold as it clasped the phone to my ear, and Edward's voice was blurred, somehow, as if he spoke underwater.

Ice flowed through my veins as I put the phone down on the small ornamental table, the marble alien and clinical against my skin.

Forcing my legs to move, I broke eye-contact for just a second as I turned around, then reinstated it.

I used that second to collect myself as I moved. To accept what was about to happen.

_To die - to sleep, no more. _

The colour of his eyes was worse without the reflection of a mirror to soften and deflect.

"Ah. Good morning, Isabella."

Red eyes.

Red by blood. Human blood.

His smile grew wider, baring even more of his teeth, and he strolled forward, through the French doors and into the hall.

"Or did you prefer 'Bella'?"

Hands in the pockets of his dark suit. Blue, perhaps? A white shirt, the collar emphasising the strong angle of his jaw, the white pallor of his skin.

I didn't dare focus on his face, the face of the man who'd kill me.

My bare feet chafed against the rough tiles that covered the floor. One step, two, in his direction, before I remembered his advice from a forgotten life, a forgotten age.

A similar situation.

Red eyes, teeth bared. A meadow.

His hallucinated voice as it whispered to me in my peril.

"_Don't move."_

Edward.

I stopped just a few feet from the mirror, and allowed my fear to paralyse my limbs, stop my blood, stop my cheeks from blushing, stop my heart from beating too fast. Stop my body from betraying me.

A broken shiver escaped as I exhaled. A reprimand filled my mind.

_Don't play the prey._

The breath I took was steady. Even.

Few seconds had passed. His eyes perused my face, a question burning beneath the crimson, and slid down my body, over Edward's shirt, down my legs, down to my bare feet.

Dread engulfed me, smothered me with recollections of a year ago, fragments reflected in broken mirrors. Broken bones, and the ensuing agony.

Yet I made sure it didn't show.

He cocked his head to the side. Then to the other. Stretching his long neck. The muscles and tendons displaying his strength as they bulged underneath his pallid skin.

And a smile as he extended his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

I stared at him, then down at his hand. Pressing my lips together, preventing my panic to turn into whimpers, I looked at his face again as he slowly lowered his hand.

"Well," he clasped his hands together in front of him, taking on the perfect salesman pose, "it _is_ a pleasure to me." His voice was pleasant, clear, ringing in my ears. An accent I couldn't place.

He raised his hands, palms upward, indicating the room we were in.

"You've done well, I dare say," he observed, taking a few casual steps around the hall. "Such splendour in a holiday retreat. It's just wonderful."

He was on my left now, looking at the ceiling, craning his head to look down the hall where the door to our bedroom was open.

Our bedroom.

Where we had lain together, yet had not yet enjoyed one another. And never would, now.

_Though I am sold, not yet enjoy'd. _

I swallowed, and it brought his attention back to me.

"Forgive me," he smiled with his lips, not with his eyes. "It's nothing, of course, in comparison to you."

I just stared at him, my eyes no doubt betraying the dread festering inside. Watching me speculatively, he slowly took two graceful steps towards me, waiting for me to flee.

Goose bumps on my skin as he approached. He stopped when he was right behind me.

His breath against my neck.

"You do smell scrumptious."

His nose settled at my hairline, sniffing. Then he suddenly drew back an inch.

"My, my... Your boyfriend does have a temper," he muttered. In the shock of remembering that I'd left the phone on, I turned my head and found his face just an inch from mine.

He laughed, his fragrant breath choking me.

"Possessive, is he?" He stepped in front of me again and took a step back, appraising me, making me feel bare, vulnerable.

He pointed to me with an open hand. "He's got you wearing his shirt; he's got you wearing his scent." He sounded almost disappointed. "I mean, it all leaves little open to the imagination."

_Edward_.

He shouldn't be here once this happened.

Red eyes silently observed me for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" I finally whispered, watching his crimson stare follow the faint movement of my lips.

He took a step towards me again, bringing his body very close to mine, and leaned forward. I stopped breathing.

"I'm here to alert you of your bad taste in boyfriends," he whispered in my ear. "Young Edward has severely limited the time your heart will be allowed to beat on this earth."

Cold fingers skated slowly down my neck, following the blue veins. "As I'm sure," putting more pressure against my skin, feeling my speeding pulse against his fingertips, "he'll realise in a week or two."

Red eyes met brown. A moment suspended in time. Then he smirked.

"Ah yes, he'll be here shortly." A quick glance at the phone behind me, then at me. "Let's seal the deal, shall we?"

He raised his hands and placed them on either side of my neck, his thumbs brushing my jaw. I fought to keep down my nausea as his face drew closer and his lips touched the skin below my ear.

"It was lovely meeting you, Bella," he whispered. One hand released my neck and slid down to my waist. He trailed kisses down my jaw, towards the corner of my mouth. I couldn't move, couldn't move. "Simply delicious."

"BELLA!" Edward's voice was wild as he roared my name.

His fingers increased their pressure on my neck.

"Bella," he whispered against my throat.

Then a sound like the crash of boulders, a tug against my neck, a whirl of bodies, and he was ripped away from me before I could raise my hands in surrender.

The wind of their passage fluttered the shirt I was wearing, and then I was alone.

Hands suspended in mid-air.

The floor cold against my feet. A breeze from the open doors.

And a shaky breath that sounded loud in the sudden silence. My eyes darted around, seeing nothing but his absence.

Another breath, this one coming out like a rasp.

The dream. This was my dream. My nightmare. Red eyes, and hands over my body, touching me.

It was my dream.

Something wet trickled down my cheek.

As I raised my hand to wipe it away, I realised it was a tear, quickly followed by another. I didn't even try to stop them falling, and after a while, I stopped wiping them away.

My hands were wet with them, and their sight made me sob in revulsion at what had happened. At the remembrance of his touch, of his lips against my skin, the way he smelled, talked, touched.

Revulsion turned into disgust, at him, at myself, at what had happened, and my sobs grew louder, shaking my shoulders, my chest, shaking my knees so violently they could hardly carry my weight. All of the self-imposed boundaries that had kept me calm mere minutes ago now fell away in an instant.

A screeching sound like the tearing of metal, and a roar. Snapping out of my selfish despair, I raced through the French doors, panic overwhelming me.

"Edward!"

Bare feet slipping on gravel, chairs lying broken along the lawn, long ridges in the sand.

No smoke, no purple smoke.

"Edward!"

Pine needles stung the soles of my feet as I ran down the length of the garden and towards the trees, earth warm underneath my skin, the sand flying loose. Trees, trees, and their trunks whipped past me.

Spotting it a moment too late, I smashed flat into the fence bordering the property, palms open against the wires. Open and pleading.

No, no...

I turned around and ran back through the trees toward the house, looking around wildly, squinting through the sun, his shirt billowing around me.

"EDWARD!" I roared his name while crossing the lawn, praying that he wasn't harmed. The mere thought sent me into a blind panic, set my heart racing in my throat. My ears were popping constantly, struggling to match the tempo of my heartbeats.

I barely registered the pain as I stumbled over one of the overturned chairs. Instead, my gaze caught on the railing that separated the garden from the lake.

Numerous bars were bent at strange angles, and even more were missing.

"No..." I gasped breathlessly, pushing myself off the ground, running towards the gap that left the lake easily accessible.

"Edward!" My plea for his safety sounded winded and pathetically frail as I skidded to a stop just at the edge of the ledge, completely out of breath. I leaned over it to gaze down at the water.

It lapped at the stones far below like it always did, without a sign of him.

"EDWARD!" I shrieked hysterically, grabbing the bent bar for support. _No, please no..._

I leaned further forward, trying to find signs of struggle down below, trying to see –

"Bella!"

His wonderful voice came from my left. I turned my head and saw him standing a few feet away from me, his hands stretched towards me, his beautiful face contorted with dread. Legs, arms, clothes without a single tear...

A strangled sob left my lips.

"Please, love, step away from the ledge," he begged.

I took a small step backwards before my knees buckled beneath me, and I sank to the ground, sobbing hysterically, hiding my face in my hands.

His arms were around me then, his hand cradling my head, his other hand gliding over my arms, my legs, my face, looking for injury.

My sobs caused me to barely hear his questions of what he'd done to me, if he'd hurt me, touched me, as I hugged him tightly, being reassured by the hard muscles of his back and arms, the sweetness of his scent. I hid my face in the crook of his neck and sobbed in relief, in disgust, in fear, in shock.

In everything I'd never wanted to happen, but had.

"Did he harm you?" I blubbered between sobs, fisting his shirt, feeling faint with relief at his still being here.

"He didn't," Edward muttered, adding something else, but I didn't hear it anymore.

Oh, thank God...

Before I knew it, before I could do anything to stop it, my body lost its strength. My hands grew limp, fell uselessly down my sides, and seeing turned into staring as the familiar darkness advanced.

I could just about feel myself slump against him, my head falling back in his hand, before I was gone.

ooo000ooo

Red velvet greeted me. Thin at the folds, smelling musty and slightly damp. The same old, shabby velvet that was so similar to those red eyes that had brought me here.

I turned my head to face away from the curtains, the wooden planks hard and uncompromising against the back of my skull, and found myself face to face with Jacob.

At the sight of his dear, friendly face so close to mine as he lay next to me, tears threatened again, and I had to fight to hold them back.

"Hey, Bella," he whispered.

Shakily, I extended my hand and touched his cheek with my fingertips.

He was warm.

I gave him a watery smile.

"I missed you," I admitted.

He covered my hand with his own.

"I missed you, too."

I sniffed, rather ungracefully, and just admired the wonder of being able to see his face again.

"We won't have long, will we?"

"No." I shook my head. "He'll be fast. He wasn't harmed."

"Good."

I frowned.

"I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't," Jacob said brusquely. "But I like you."

I smiled in understanding, then felt a sudden sharp ache in my arm, and my breathing halted for a second.

We looked at each other.

"Oh," he said. "He really _is_ fast..."

"Ouch," I whispered, feeling a strange pulling sensation throughout my whole body unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Without being able to resist it, my hand released Jacob's, losing the connection with him, and my head involuntarily lifted.

"I hope you know, I - " I began but, as before, was interrupted and unable to continue. Jacob's face blurred as I scrunched my eyes against the pain, desperately inviting the darkness as it closed around me. I watched it recede as light blinded my open, staring eyes, as softness became tangible underneath me, as I became aware of his hands holding up my head. The swirl of colours shaped themselves into the form of similar surroundings, and Edward's face doomed up a mere inch from my own.

I gasped, feeling oddly bent and stretched, tired in a way that I could only attribute to the way my body had been pulled in a direction my mind hadn't wanted it to go. Wetness trickled down my cheeks as I took in gulps of air, clutched the smoothness of his hands, curled my legs in strange angles to find an outlet for the shock of coming back.

"Bella," he whispered, so much like Jacob had. His face was tortured, his eyes displaying his agony, and I didn't understand. He hadn't been hurt, after all. He hadn't been hurt.

I tried to ask what was wrong, but all I managed was a strange and garbled wheezing.

He let out a tortured sound much like the one I'd made just and looked down, his hands gripping his hair, his shoulders slumping.

I tried to reach for him, but my arm stung and my body felt heavy. This was so disorienting, so overwhelming. What was wrong with him? Had he been hurt after all?

Another strangled sound as a tremor shook his body.

Pushing myself up, I let out a small whimper. His face snapped up.

"Did he hurt you?"

His voice was bleak, like his eyes. The harshness he emanated was so sudden that I froze against my pillow.

"What?" I squeaked in horror at his glacial expression, at the flatness of his tone.

He gripped his forehead with one hand, rippling the skin with his fingers in a gesture that somehow was so manic, panicked.

"Did he hurt you?"

His other hand fisted in the sheets as he leaned forward.

I shook my head.

"No, I - "

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothi- " I started to say, but then the memories came back, and I felt his breath against my face, his lips on my throat, and my eyes filled with tears.

Edward groaned, took his head in his hands again and rested his elbows on his knees, strands of his hair twisting through his fingers.

"I can smell him on you," he ground out.

Pain lanced through my gut.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, despondently realising that I should have expected him to be as disgusted as I was.

"No," he exclaimed, raising his head and looking me in the eyes. "Please don't think I'm blaming you." It came out as a question.

I looked down, thinking back on what had happened, trying to dispel my revulsion, failing spectacularly. My hands were dirty, and I stared at them until Edward covered them with his own.

I looked at him.

"Who was he?" My voice was low, a bit hoarse. _From the way I'd screamed his name? _

"He came from Volterra. A member of the guard."

I sifted through my memories, finally finding the conversation in Carlisle's study. It somehow seemed a lifetime away.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes. He wasn't here to fight."

I swallowed.

"A week or two, he said." I muttered the words, dread swamping my gut.

Edward's face changed into an expression I'd never seen before. The closest I could come to describing it would be a shaking, overflowing anger - hatred even - but diluted with an emotion that seemed much older, much more primordial. _Sadness?_

His answer never came.

Instead, he leaned forward and very carefully brushed his fingertips over my neck. I winced.

"What is it?"

"Bruises," he whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at my neck. "The form of his fingers."

"Oh," I breathed. I didn't remember that...

It was disturbing.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Only if you touch it."

His lips pressed together, clenching his jaw at the same time. Then he looked down, and I followed his gaze to discover he was looking at my ankle, where another bruise was beginning to bloom.

"Did he do this as well?" His voice was so tight, so frighteningly close to an unseen precipice.

I squinted through my mental haze.

"No." I shook my head. "I fell down. Outside."

His hand covered the bruised skin, softly, so softly.

We were silent for a while.

What would happen now? Would Edward respond to the threat, and change me before the "week or two" was over?

But he hadn't even answered me when I'd brought it up.

Nothing had changed. After all the progress we'd made, we were exactly where we'd been before he left.

He didn't want me forever.

A few tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

Edward's fingers wiped them away, then lingered at my jaw.

Where another's mouth had been.

I shuddered, closing my eyes, feeling dirty. Nothing much had happened, really. Not like in the movies, where women went through the most horrible things, and walked away, smiling, just before the credits rolled.

Nothing much had happened. Yet it made me feel disgusted.

"I want to take a shower."

Edward's fingers disappeared. Slowly, clumsily, I pushed myself up and out of bed. My legs felt slushy as I tentatively put weight on them.

"How do you feel?"

Edward was watching me apprehensively, hovering close by as I made my way toward the bathroom.

"Dreadful," I admitted.

"Will you be alright in there?"

I turned on the water and closed the sliding door, letting steam gather on the glass.

When I turned back to face Edward, he was only a few feet away. Close enough that my hand could reach out and touch him, if I told it to.

But now, there was such distance between us.

"I want to be alone, please."

His pain at my statement was evident, yet I couldn't withdraw it.

"I'll be fine," I added quietly, too late to soften the blow.

His lips pursed, more in a gesture of sadness than of disapproval, and he closed the door behind him.

The room slowly grew foggier.

Gradually fading away amidst the haze, I was alone.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to share your thoughts :-)**


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you all for your reviews on the previous chapter! And also those of you who just read this thing, thank you for reading! Your interest makes my day :-)

A deep bow to the wonderful **Arabella's**, who once again shared her amazing skills and helped me with this chapter. Thank you!

As promised, a short recap of the last few chapters. Our lovely couple went to Italy to resuscitate their relationship. Thing were going well, and Bella was sleeping, eating, and on some very rare occasions even smiling (!) until an unknown vampire showed up and threatened them. This chapter will give you more specifics on that. After Edward threw said unknown vampire off the premises, Bella had a minor relapse concerning the condition she was diagnosed with (which you might remember as 'catatonic schizophrenia'), but Edward was able to wake her up. Bella takes a shower, and Edward waits outside the door - that pervert. This is where this chapter begins.

**Added Author's Note: Whatever is Left of Me has been nominated for 'Fic of the week' at the Lemonade Stand! Winning would mean the world to me, so if you have to time to vote, please do! The poll is open for one more day and can be found at www . tehlemonadestand . net Thanks a million :-D**

* * *

Samuel Johnson once said that when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.

There had never been a statement more apt to my present situation.

Two weeks. That was all the time that we had been given. The leaders of the most powerful coven of my kind had given us two weeks.

Fourteen days.

And then they'd be here. They'd come here, to us, to end the existence of the woman I loved, and therefore my own. My fate had been tied to hers the moment she'd whispered my name, in bed, late at night.

That night. The night that had set everything in motion. That had been a prelude to the first touch of our hands, the first contact of our lips, the love that we'd shared, the dreams that I'd shattered.

So many nights had made up the past, and now there were only fourteen in the future.

Fourteen nights.

A fortnight.

My impending doom had the effect Dr. Johnson had said it would have. It concentrated my mind wonderfully. It enabled me to look beyond the frightening scenarios that all seemed painfully realistic, and search for solutions, grasp at last straws.

And in my mind, the inevitable conclusion arose.

My heel tapped against the floor in short bursts of quick succession while I waited for the call to connect.

ooo000ooo

Her arms were draped over the railing loosely, casually.

When I spoke, her only reaction could be discerned in the slight tensing of the muscles in her back, the faintest twist of her fingers as they slenderly intertwined in mid-air.

"I called Carlisle."

As I walked closer, I had ample time to observe the blooming bruise on her ankle. She wore her baggy jeans, which left it uncovered.

She looked straight ahead, staring out over the lake. Standing beside her, I could see the purple marks on her neck, standing out vividly against her pale, translucent skin.

I swallowed while my hands turned into fists inside my pockets, and I briefly closed my eyes against the leering voice I heard inside my head.

"_She's lovely, Edward." _

I cleared my throat and opened my eyes again.

She'd caught the sun. Her hair glittered as the breeze softly blew through it, and her skin seemed to glow with a silken, golden shine. The next gust of wind wafted her smell towards me.

His stench was gone.

But this was not what I wanted to say.

"He and Esme will be here tomorrow, together with Alice and Jasper."

She turned her head to look at me. The expression in her eyes was unreadable. Slightly distant. They perused my face, and lingered on my own eyes.

"Are you okay with that?"

Her lips pursed, and she turned back to look at the water.

"You're asking me now?"

Her voice was brusque as she shifted her weight to her left leg, leaning away from me slightly.

"You're upset," I muttered dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

She shook her head, turning to sit at the table behind us. I hovered as she twisted her fingers in her lap, unsure of what to do when she was in an incalculable mood like this.

When the silence persisted, I took a seat as well.

"We need them, Bella. I won't be able to protect you on my own."

She met my gaze, then sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

"Protect me from what, exactly? What's _the deal_ here?" she asked dryly, curling her fingers into imaginary quotation marks.

I frowned, trying to understand what her sarcasm could mean.

"He's given us two weeks," I explained in a low voice. Something flashed in her eyes that I couldn't identify, but it was gone as fast as it had come.

"To change me?"

"Yes."

"Before he kills me."

"Before he comes here and _tries_ to kill you, yes." Fear bubbled in my veins at the thought.

Bella was silent for a minute. I stood up and kneeled in front of her. When I brought my hands up to cup her face, she flinched away from me.

I froze.

"Are you okay?"

She bit her lip, a small 'V' forming between her eyebrows.

"I'm not sure."

I hesitated for a second.

"I saw your dream."

Her eyes widened.

"Or, I mean, what you saw when you were... out."

"Jacob," she whispered.

"Yes."

She nodded.

Deciding to try again, I slowly raised one hand instead of two, keeping my eyes fixed on hers to let her know what I was up to. This time, when it settled against her cheek, she didn't shy away.

Her skin was cold. And paper-thin beneath my hand.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered earnestly.

Her eyes glittered against the bright light of the morning.

They were breathtaking.

"For what?" she asked, putting her hand on top of mine.

"For what happened."

The frown left her face.

"I'll promise he'll never touch you again."

Although I tried to say it like it was a given fact instead of a private conviction, the crinkling of the skin on her forehead and the hesitation in her eyes told me that she didn't believe me. A drop of moisture trickled down against our conjoined hands.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated. "Please, don't cry."

She nodded and wiped her tears away, breaking our connection.

"What did he say?" she sniffled.

"Pretty much the same as he said to you." A pause. "Just a bit more straightforward."

"He didn't fight you?"

"No. He tried to get away as smoothly as he could."

"He knew you could hear his thoughts?"

"Yes." I frowned. "He made it clear through them that he seemed to know everything about me. About us."

I thought back to the moment I'd ripped him away from her. He'd been elusive to the point that it had been almost impossible for me to get hold of him.

"_She's lovely, Edward." _

The voice in my head was leering at me, sickly smooth and edgy all the same.

"_Shame you didn't do her when you had the chance."_

I'd smashed him through the railing then, but he'd scaled the surface of the rock and jumped over the edge, landing three feet away, sprinting toward the trees with me in hot pursuit.

He laughed out loud at the growl that tore from my throat.

"_Change her, I mean." _

I'd tackled him, sliding with him over the ground and slicing deep gouges in the earth.

"_Or drink her the first time. When you stopped."_

He'd kicked me in the chest before I'd seen it coming and took off while I scrambled up, much too late, and tried to catch up with him.

But then I heard her scream for me, and scream again with a level of desperation I'd never heard from her.

Shame, shame, shame... I drowned in it then, and I drowned in it now. I'd let someone hurt her, when I'd promised to myself that I would keep her safe.

ooo000ooo

"Edward?"

Her voice drew me back to the now. We were lying on our sides, in bed, with a safe distance between us. The room was dark, as were her eyes.

She was watching me closely.

"Yes?" My voice was hoarse under the weight of heavy memories.

"What time will they get here?"

I thought back to my conversation with Carlisle earlier today. Even for me, a creature with more than a century to account for a lifetime, it seemed to be ages ago.

"They'll be on a plane now, I think. They said they'd get here at noon tomorrow." I glanced at my watch. "Or today, rather."

My hand silently slid over the silk sheet covering the mattress until it touched just the side of hers. She startled slightly before giving my hand a soft, hesitant squeeze.

But her troubled expression lingered.

"What is bothering you about this?"

She let go of my hand and turned to lie on her back.

"It's just that..." She stared at the ceiling while searching for words. "I don't get why they would come here."

"They come because I can't protect you on my own, Bella. You know this."

"No, I don't," she said, ice frosting her voice.

"They come because I asked them to."

"And they _left_ because you asked them to."

Oh.

A fracture where my heart should beat.

"Yes, they did," I admitted sadly.

A sense of defeat washed over me. We'd been moving forward these past few weeks, rebuilding our trust in each other, our love for each other, but it seemed that the past had moved with us, holding us back at every turn.

I'd done that. And I saw no way to make it better, to make me better.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking at her lovely face in the darkness. The bruise was harder to see like this.

"Please stop saying sorry," she said bluntly. "It doesn't change anything, and repeating it all the time won't change _that_."

"You don't want them to come."

"No, that's not... I just don't understand why they would fly to Italy at a moment's notice to, as you put it, 'protect me' while just a few months ago they obviously had no scruples in leaving me completely unprotected."

"They were just trying to protect you by - "

"By leaving? Yeah, how ironic," she sneered bitterly.

I was surprised at the amount of venom her voice could apparently contain. She'd never been this harsh or unforgiving, not to anyone.

Yet she'd never before been let down by anyone so completely, I reminded myself.

"I can fend for myself, you know. They made sure of that. I don't want them to come here and feel all noble and proud of themselves because they offered up two weeks of eternity to hopelessly defend poor, sad, human Bella."

"Bella, I - "

"If they left to protect me, they can stay away now, too."

"Bella, they're already on a plane."

She sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling underneath the blanket.

"I know." She sounded calmer now. Resigned. "It's fine."

A long moment of silence.

"Edward?" she asked softly.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

I smiled, letting her words bubble up inside me, warming me.

"I love you, too."

"I know," she breathed.

Her eyes glittered in the moonlight that filtered in through the crack in the curtains. They didn't close that night.

ooo000ooo

She was quiet that morning. Friendly, but quiet. The day had dawned hot and humid, and she claimed it was the high temperature that had lessened her appetite and made her hardly eat a thing.

It worried me.

Some of that worry alleviated when I heard my family arrive in the distance, the tires of their rental car scrunching gravel, their thoughts greeting me as soon as they were within hearing distance. Alice jumped out and wrapped her arms around my neck even before the car had come to a standstill, enthusiasm, worry and love rolling off her in tidal waves.

A smile broke through all the tension I'd pent up, and I hugged her back, thankful for her presence.

"Hey," I grinned, kissing her on the cheek while she did the same. I stepped back to look at the rest of the family as they got out of the car with slightly more poise.

"Edward," Carlisle greeted, hugging me tightly. I shook Jasper's hand as he stood behind Carlisle, then released him and kissed Esme, who greeted me lovingly and stroked my cheek.

"Thanks for coming," I muttered while Esme put her hands on my chest and looked at me with wide eyes.

"Did he harm you, Edward?"

The similarity of her question to the one Bella had asked me only yesterday threw me slightly off balance, but I shook my head all the same.

"Thank God," she breathed, then stepped back and joined hands with Carlisle. My hand raked through my hair.

"Really, thank you all for coming here," I repeated, suddenly overcome with gratefulness for the family that had never let me down. "I can't really say how - "

"No need, Edward," Carlisle cut in. "Of course we're here."

Alice giggled, and mentally smirked something which suspiciously sounded a lot like _'duh'_ to me.

I'd missed her. I'd missed every single member of my family, and I still missed those who weren't here.

But Carlisle got to business fast.

"Any sign of them last night?"

I shook my head.

"Nothing." I'd been on high alert all night, listening for the slightest sound, the faintest odour of an intruder.

"And before?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't have stayed here with her if I'd known we were being watched."

"Of course not. How is she?"

I frowned and led them through the gate, around the house and into the garden.

"Shaken up."

"How so?" Jasper asked curiously.

"She didn't sleep last night. But she doesn't really give anything away."

I thought of yesterday. How she'd been quiet for hours on end after our heavy conversation.

"She's..." I searched for words. "Distant. Sort of... detached."

We stopped at the edge of the lawn as Bella's prone form came into view. She lay sprawled on the grass, her arms and legs at slightly odd angles, her palms open in invitation to the sun. The leaves of the broad maple tree under which she lay created constantly changing patterns on her glowing skin and her glittering hair as it fanned over her shoulders.

Jasper's thoughts became riddled with confusion. I looked at him.

"What?" I whispered.

Alice's arm slipped around his waist.

"Nothing. She's just... different. Her emotions are different."

I frowned, then looked back at her.

"The bruise," Alice muttered in a disconsolate voice.

It had darkened a shade since yesterday, now being a vivid purple.

"Anywhere else?" Carlisle asked me.

"Just her ankle."

Five pairs of vampire eyes zoomed in on the swelling that had begun to form there.

I cleared my throat, and the eyes flew back to me. It made me nervous to have them all looking at her so intently, even though the rational part of my mind knew there was no need to be apprehensive.

"She fell," I clarified uneasily. "When she was looking for me."

A short silence.

"Well," Carlisle sighed, "it could have been worse."

I disagreed, but was prevented saying so by Esme proposing to say hello. We all moved forward, but my family stopped a few feet away when I walked close enough to kneel by Bella's side.

My hand carefully curled around the side of her face. Her eyes opened lazily beneath her sunglasses, and she smiled. I smiled back, happy to see her smile.

"Bella, my family's arrived," I whispered. "Will you say hello?"

"Oh," she muttered, rubbing her face. "Of course."

She pushed herself up with her hands and scrambled to her feet while my hands found her elbow and shoulder. When she stood upright, she haphazardly brushed off her clothes and raked a hand through her hair, then looked at me questioningly.

"You look lovely." I smiled and kissed her lips softly. "You always do."

She took a deep breath, then looked over my shoulder at my family waiting at a distance. My hand found her lower back, and I slowly guided her toward them.

"Bella," Carlisle greeted, stepping forward to shake her hand. "It's good to see you again. Even under such trying circumstances. You look much better."

"Thank you," she muttered. She looked at the rest of my family. "Thank you all for coming. And so soon, too."

Alice swiftly made a decision, checked the outcome, then bounded toward her and hugged her fiercely. Bella's heart stuttered in surprise, but she didn't pull away.

She hugged my sister back.

"I've missed you," Alice whispered in her ear. Her mind drifted back to the last time she'd seen her, in the forest behind Charlie's house. She'd been cold, angry, miserable. "I've missed you a lot."

She drew back and held Bella at arm's length, hands on her shoulders. "You look good." Alice's sharp eyes quickly took in the lushness of her hair, her shining skin, her simple white top and cream-coloured linen slacks. "Really good."

Bella simply smiled, a bit self-conscious, then greeted Jasper and Esme as well. While my brother gave her a cautious handshake and an apologetic half-smile, my mother hugged Bella in the same manner Alice had done, whispering sentiments of apology and delight at the same time.

Bella accepted their administrations, yet reacted almost absentmindedly, as if her mind was elsewhere. Carlisle's attention was drawn by it, too, and he silently asked me if she'd been like this for long.

I shook my head slightly.

"_Not before?"_

I shook my head. We'd been doing well before this. She'd been smiling, eating, kissing me. She'd told me she loved me. She'd let me hold her while she slept.

We'd been growing back to each other, but that process had come to a standstill now.

"_You do realise you could change her, and solve this problem?"_

"No," I snapped out loud, unable to stop myself. We stared at each other for a minute, shooting daggers, before Alice cleared her throat and I realised the mistake I'd made.

Bella was looking questioningly from me to Carlisle, then back again. Understanding suddenly flooded in her eyes, replacing the blankness that had resided in them, and she looked hurt.

"Bella," I began, but she shook her head and held up her hand, effectively stopping me from speaking further.

She gazed at me for a moment, then slowly lowered her hand and turned to the rest of the family.

"Again, thank you all for coming. It means a lot to me." She placed the hand over her heart. "I'll just..." She cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

She turned around and walked back inside. We all listened to how she entered the bedroom and started rummaging in one of her suitcases.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Alice snapped at me.

I looked at her.

"What do you - "

"Don't play dumb with me, Edward. If you'd just get your thick head out of your - "

"Alice," Esme warned.

"You'd see what a monumental mistake you're making here! Do you think this is best for her?"

"Yes, I do," I snapped. "Condemning her to an eternity of - "

"Condemning her?" Alice yelled incredulously. "That's not what you do by changing her. It's what you do by not changing her!"

"You don't know that! We can protect her now that there's five of us."

"Really?" Alice scoffed. "You're sure about that?"

I stared at her.

"What have you seen?" I eventually asked.

She rolled her eyes, then shook her head.

"This isn't James, Edward. We're not dealing with a lone lunatic here. You know that."

"I do, but if we stay together, we could - "

"We can't," Alice yelled, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "These are the Volturi you're up against! A whole _network_ of people you'll never even see! You cannot win. You might be able to protect her for a few days, perhaps, but that's it. If they want her dead, she's dead. If they want her changed, she's changed!"

She fell silent and glared at me for a moment.

"No," I finally repeated.

Alice advanced until she stood right in front of me and grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck tightly, forcing me to look at her.

"These are the Volturi," she repeated, whispering. "The most advanced, deadly coven of vampires currently in existence. They are _not_ going to fail."

Her eyes were black with anger, and I was unable to look away.

"Now, they've given you two weeks. If Carlisle's accounts of them are anything to go by, this is extremely lenient. You'd better think about this, and change your mind, _before_ those two weeks are up," she growled.

Her grip on my hair tightened.

"Because what you're doing here, to her? It's wrong, Edward. If you'd just step away from your own self-righteousness and actually allow the thought that you might not be right about everything _all the time_," she paused for effect, "to pass through your brain, you would see that, too."

She released my hair and hit the side of my head before following Bella's footsteps into the house.

I looked at Jasper blankly, still dazed by his wife's ferocity. He raised an eyebrow as if daring me to ask him to contradict what she'd just said.

"I'm with her," he said bluntly, then turned away and followed Alice.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Here I am again! Sorry for updating so very, very late! I hope the fact that this chapter is twice the usual length will make up for that a little.

Many thanks to reviewers and readers, to **Arabella's**, and to** BookishQua**,who has recommended my story to so many of my readers :-) My absence on Twitter, Tumblr and whatever not often causes me to miss these things, but when I do find out, I'm ever so grateful. Thank you!

Finally, an updated recap: Our lovely couple went to Italy to resuscitate their relationship. Thing were going well, and Bella was sleeping, eating, and on some very rare occasions even smiling (!) until a member of the Volturi showed up and threatened them. After Edward threw said vampire off the premises, Bella had a minor relapse concerning the condition she was diagnosed with (which you might remember as 'catatonic schizophrenia'), but Edward was able to wake her up. After that, he called his family, and they all showed up the following day. Edward is not willing to change Bella and response to the Volturi's threat, but his family does not immediately agree. Chapter 21 starts two weeks after their arrival.

* * *

A sharp _pop_ pulled me out of my reverie.

Stretched out on my favourite lounger, I had spent the better part of the morning reading and dozing. The popping noise made me realise that I'd done more of the latter than of the former, and I groggily peeled my eyelids open.

Carlisle had joined me on the lawn with a lounger of his own, a thin curl of steam wafting out of the bottle in his hand.

I frowned as he laid the cork on the small table, next to my copy of _Death Comes to Pemberly._ I'd started on it earlier this morning, I remembered hazily.

As I'd found out during the past two weeks, reading was the only thing left that could keep my thoughts away from the solid fear that had settled in my stomach. The dozing, and the nightmares that came with it, had become a necessity as my body or mind had – once again – reverted to a state of utter sleeplessness during the nights.

When Carlisle proceeded to fill two slender glasses with the clear, slightly golden liquid I'd come to recognise as Prosecco, my astonishment got the better of me.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out.

Carlisle smiled at me.

"I'm preparing a toast."

The foam swiftly rose within the confines of the crystal. Carlisle topped up several times while I watched incredulously.

"A toast?" I eventually managed to get out, shading my eyes with my hand to get a better look at him. "A toast to what?"

Carlisle put the bottle in the cooler, then handed one glass to me before sitting down with the other.

We clinked glasses.

"A toast to you," he proclaimed, smiling at me in a way I couldn't comprehend.

He smiled _proudly_. At _me_.

I rejected the idea immediately.

"I don't want to toast to me."

Carlisle shrugged. "You've handled the stress of the last thirteen days admirably. I must say I'm proud."

I frowned.

"I don't want to toast to me."

"All right then. You toast to whatever you want to, and I'll just toast to you."

Carlisle's voice was friendly. I watched, stupefied, as he lifted the glass, nodded at me, and took a sure, steady drink.

Then he swallowed.

"Do you like drinking Prosecco?" I asked him. Aside from calculated attempts to appear human, this was the first time I'd seen a vampire consume human food.

"Not particularly," Carlisle smiled, sniffing the beverage appreciatively. "But it's such a lovely gesture, I can't help but indulge sometimes." His golden eyes twinkled with mirth.

I watched in bewilderment as he lifted his glass again.

"Cheers," he grinned.

"Cheers," I muttered, and we both took a sip. It was cool, slightly dry, but not even close to bitter, and it bubbled pleasantly against my tongue.

Memories of Florence bubbled up in similar fashion, but I pushed them down.

"Is it any good?" Carlisle asked me.

I gave him a small smile, still reeling from his strange behaviour, this curious spectacle that was unfolding before me.

"Yes. It's delicious."

Carlisle's smile grew.

"Good." He seemed delighted, and sat back in his lounger, looking completely comfortable sipping alcohol with me.

I stared at him for a few more minutes, then shrugged and took another taste.

It really was delicious.

Good thing, too, as it would also probably be my last drink. The two weeks were up, and Edward had made no move to change me. Had given no indication of having changed his mind.

Sure, we'd talked about strategies, figured out the best way to handle 'the situation'. Or rather, he and his family had discussed tactics while I sadly sat on the sidelines, the fragile human whose life was on the line.

They'd try to engage me in the conversation, but I never had anything to add, uninformed as I was of the different ways to kill a vampire. I'd never killed a vampire. Had never had the chance, because I wasn't one and there was just no way to kill a vampire while being human. I'd never had the chance to be a vampire and kill a vampire.

I'd only ever been the victim. The fleshy container of about eight pints of blood. Blood which apparently smelled extremely appetizing. The rest of me, the container itself so to say, seemed to be less alluring.

Edward had hardly touched me during the past two weeks. I tried not to, but I shied away every time his hands came near me, the memory of the unknown man's touches lingering in my mind. A few days after the event, Edward had declared he was giving me space until I felt ready.

I didn't feel ready.

When Edward's family arrived and he made it so blatantly clear that changing me would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him, I'd forced myself to push all the pain and all the heartache away. The result was that I spent my last two weeks in a sort of permanent haze, a state of calm which was utterly bizarre in the face of my impending death. But it was there, and it helped me to function without breaking down in fear and humiliation, much like it had helped me to function during the first months after Edward had left me.

The comparison was crippling.

"How are you doing, Bella?"

I looked up and saw Carlisle watching me closely. His perusal made me uncomfortable, and I shrugged.

"Are you feeling okay?" he prompted.

"Sure." I shrugged again, wondering what was coming, getting so tired of these daily interviews. They had all come to talk to me, day after day, to ask me how I was doing, how I was feeling, like their superficial concern could help me.

"The bruises are gone," he added, glimpsing at my neck. "How are you feeling?"

I raised my eyebrow in irritation.

_Really? Again?_

"Like I'm about to die tomorrow," I deadpanned.

Carlisle expression morphed into one of faint concern.

"I'll make sure that won't happen."

I gazed at him, remaining silent.

"We all will," he continued earnestly.

I took another sip from my glass, feigning nonchalance. I liked to believe that I'd become an expert at that.

"Bella?"

"They won't fail," I muttered, echoing the words Alice had screamed at Edward two weeks ago.

"There's five of us," Carlisle countered. "Three of us have powerful gifts that they don't have. We've come prepared and we have a plan."

Oh yes, _the plan_. Tomorrow, when the two weeks were officially up, we were going to go to Rome and search the protection that only crowds could offer. The Cullens figured that the Volturi wouldn't attack in the middle of a city that, at this time of the year, would be fit to burst with millions of potential eye-witnesses.

I stayed silent.

I'd drawn my own conclusions about all this and didn't fancy having another discussion about them. Instead, I watched the tiny bubbles cling to the inside of my glass. Those tiny, fragile orbs defined only by their existence in a sea of liquid gold.

"We won't let you die, Bella. I promise you, you will live either way."

"No," I muttered, closing my eye and shaking my head. "Not either way." I laid my head against the back of the chair.

Carlisle's voice suddenly came from much closer. The gentle amusement had disappeared.

"You don't want the change?"

I opened my eyes, and found him crouching on the ground next to me, his face level with mine.

"I don't want to be alone again," I muttered.

"You wouldn't be," he said immediately, like this was the most natural thing in the world. "You'd be with us."

"But not with him. He doesn't want me to change."

Carlisle took my hands.

"He loves you."

"Yes." I paused. "But not enough. Not with a love that would let me stay with him forever."

"He loves you enough to try to prevent you staying with him forever," Carlisle countered.

I sighed.

"Big difference. He still doesn't want me for eternity."

"He does."

"He doesn't."

Now it was Carlisle's turn to sigh. I took another swallow, effectively draining my glass.

"What do _you_ want?"

I stared at him. His eyes were honest. No disguises. No hidden agendas.

Nonetheless, it took me a while to admit it.

"If he would give me the chance, I would love him forever."

Carlisle's eyes turned sad.

"But?" he prompted, sensing rightly that there was, indeed, a 'but' coming.

"But I can't be with someone who doesn't love me the same way. Who'd stay with me forever, not out of love, but out of guilt, out of a sense of duty."

Carlisle smiled wistfully.

"I suppose telling you he loves you just as much as you love him wouldn't persuade you to change your views?"

"No." I smiled apologetically.

Carlisle leaned sideways, grabbed the bottle from the cooler and refilled our glasses. We clinked them against each other, and took a small first sip.

Cold and warm.

"If he'd let me," I said to Carlisle quietly, "I would love him forever. But now I'll love him until I die."

ooo000ooo

When the fog lifted, I looked into a pair of brown eyes. He sat in the chair that Carlisle had occupied just now, and he wore his customary big grin.

"Am I asleep?" I murmured sleepily.

"Yes. You're dreaming."

I nodded wearily, and looked at him blearily through small and puffy eyes.

"You look good," I muttered.

"Ha!" He slapped himself on his chest. "Don't I know it?"

I chuckled softly. I'd come to get used to my 'visits' with Jacob. During the past two weeks, I'd seen him almost every time I'd dozed off during the day. It was almost as if he hadn't died.

Almost.

"How are you holding up?"

"Cracking up, I guess," I answered truthfully. "I hardly sleep, can't manage to eat more than a few bites at mealtimes, and I'm seeing my dead friend almost every day."

Jacob was silent. I reached for my flute of Prosecco, but it wasn't there. I frowned.

"Where's my glass?"

"What glass?"

"The glass Carlisle filled for me. The glass of Prosecco."

"Doc's getting you drunk?"

I snorted. "Of course not. He drank most of it himself. But I had a glass," I muttered, turning in my seat to look at the house.

It wasn't there.

Instead, there was just an endless expanse of lawn on which Jacob and I were currently sitting.

I turned again to look at the lake, this time, but that had disappeared as well. Instead, green grass stretched as far as the eye could see.

When I looked back at Jacob, the lounger he'd been sitting in had vanished, too, and we were lying together on a large blanket that had been draped over the grass. The sky was bluer than blue, and the sun couldn't be seen even though I felt it on my skin.

Hot.

Jacob's hand found mine.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asked me.

"With what?"

"With our surroundings. You're giving me whiplash, the way you keep changing things."

"Oh. Sorry," I murmured, distracted by the way he'd used the term 'whiplash' and the way it reminded me of a situation that lurked at the edge of my memory.

A breeze stroked our faces, and it carried an emotion that was easy to identify.

_Calm_.

"Jasper's home," I stated sleepily.

"Where's he been?"

"Hunting. Everyone left this morning, except Carlisle."

"Who got you drunk."

"Bless his heart," I grinned, even though I knew that Carlisle had gotten me nowhere near drunk.

He'd helped me relax. Softened the sharp edges of my feelings as they cut through my heart. Made me feel appreciated, noticed, seen.

He'd made me feel loved, even if just the tiniest bit.

"I don't want to wake up."

"Then don't. Stay with me."

"Yes." Just for a while longer.

"The weather's nice here."

"It's nice there as well."

"But people don't hurt you here."

"True."

"So stay here."

I shook my head. "No. We talked about this."

"He doesn't want you."

I turned my head to look at him, bringing our noses mere inches apart.

"You think?"

"Yeah," Jacob admitted. "And so do you."

It hurt like hell, even here.

"He's letting you die," Jacob went on. "Starting tomorrow, people are out to kill you, and he knows that, and yet he does nothing to stop it. To save you. Who does that?"

I was silent for a while, trying to imagine clouds in the blue sky. They popped up suddenly, and took the forms of crimson peonies and golden marigolds.

"Do you think I should have left him?"

Jacob said nothing.

"I couldn't leave him," I muttered disconsolately. "I love him."

"Still?"

"What?"

"I mean, even now?"

"Of course."

I made the peonies dance within the blue, and had the marigolds circle around them. Then the sky turned black, and the world turned to night, and the flowers started to shine, replacing the sun I hadn't seen before.

"Bells?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a freak show."

"Thank you."

"And now it's time to go."

I turned to look at him. His eyes glittered happily in the darkness. I squeezed his hand.

"Bye, Bella."

"Bye, Jacob. Guess I'll see you soon," I whispered, and wrenched myself away.

ooo000ooo

My head involuntarily rolled against the headrest of the lounger, and for a second I was blinded by glittering skin.

"Jasper," I groaned, struggling to see him sitting next to me, a careful smile on his lips. His hands were folded on top of his lap.

"I'm sorry for waking you."

"Why did you do it then?"

"I was wondering if you'd like me to read to you again." Jasper took the book that had been lying on the side table and held it up for me to see.

I glanced sideways and saw Edward standing just outside the double doors. He turned around and disappeared into the shadows of the house.

Pain fluttered in my chest, but I held it down.

"Did he eat?" I asked Jasper.

"Yes," said Jasper. "Did you?"

I nodded.

"What did you have?"

I rolled my eyes. "I had an apple on the train," I joked half-heartedly.

Jasper sighed, and raked a hand through his hair just like Edward always did.

"Are you getting tired of me?" I asked him.

"Of course not."

"Because you don't have to read to me. I can read. I can do it on my own."

"I know you can read, Bella. Of course. But I want to. We both like it."

I remembered the first time he'd offered to read to me. I'd been lying in the sun, and the stark whiteness of the pages had made me dizzy.

"Don't you agree?"

Warm air fluttered past my lips as I exhaled. "Yes," I breathed. "I do like it." And I liked Jasper, ever since he approached me just after they arrived and apologised, profusely but without embellishment, for what had happened in September. His blunt honesty had been refreshing, and it had warmed my heart for a while.

"All right then." He stood up and took the seat that Carlisle had occupied before. "_Death Comes to Pemberly_ this time, I see. You've been busy. Yesterday we were reading _Antonio's Revenge_."

"Yes," I muttered. Not being able to sleep had added a substantial number of hours to each day.

"So, page 55, I presume?"

"Sure," I acquiesced, not really remembering what had happened at Pemberly before I'd fallen asleep.

"Right then," Jasper said jovially, and started to read. "'But his words were lost in a renewed howling of the wind in the chimney and the company followed him out of the music room, down the main staircase and into the hall. Stoughton and Mrs Reynolds were already there. At a gesture from Darcy, Stoughton opened the door.'"

Jasper had a good voice for reading, and the story was nice. A bit shallow, perhaps, and probably not all that interesting after all, but nice.

Nevertheless, when Mr Bennet was mentioned, my thoughts were inevitably catapulted back to the conversation I'd had with my own father, yesterday morning. We'd chatted about ordinary things, like the sights I'd seen and the places I'd been. I'd mentioned that we were planning to go to Rome, and he responded with a 'blimey' and a remark about how I'd have to eat lots of ice cream for him.

I couldn't tell him anything else, of course. He'd made to end the conversation in a casual way, but I needed to say more.

"I love you, Charlie."

He'd been surprised, a short silence at the other end of the line.

"I love you, too, Bells," he'd answered then. "Of course. I do miss you an awful lot, you know. Make sure you call again soon."

"I'll make sure," I assured him falsely. "Goodbye then, dad."

"Bye, Bells."

And he'd hung up. He wouldn't realise it was goodbye until he'd receive the call, or the letter, the two colleagues at the door, or whatever it would be.

A passage from _Antonio's Revenge _floated to the forefront of my mind. I silently whispered it to myself while Jasper's voice relayed how Lydia yelled hysterically that her Wickham had been killed.

_'Had heaven been kind,_

_Creating me an honest, senseless dolt,_

_A good, poor fool, I should want sense to feel_

_The stings of anguish shoot through every vein;_

_I should not know what 't were to lose a father;_

_I should be dead of sense to view defame_

_Blur my bright love'_

"What's that?"

I started. Jasper had stopped reading and was looking at me quizzically.

"Nothing," I said hastily. "Please, go on."

"Of course. 'It was then that Alveston intervened. 'Forgive me, sir, but I feel I must speak. You discuss what Miss Darcy should do as if she were a child. We have entered the nineteenth century; we do not need to be a disciple of Mrs Wollstonecraft to feel that women should not be denied a voice in matters that concern them. It is some centuries since we accepted that a woman has a soul. Is it not time that we accepted that she also has a mind?''"

Huh. I huffed at the irony, and heard a car door slam in the distance. Turning my head, I saw Edward getting into the passenger door of the Mercedes, and it drove off.

"Where's he going?" I interrupted Jasper.

"They're going to the store so you can have a proper dinner," Jasper murmured without looking up. "Should I read on?"

"Yes, please," I muttered, and closed my eyes again.

ooo000ooo

My back was toward him when he lay down next to me, yet I didn't need to turn around to see what he would look like tonight.

Edward's eyes would carry the hurt they carried every night, when the weight of the day seemed to press down on him.

I turned a page.

"Did you get some sleep today?" His voice was carefully neutral.

I nodded. "Some."

Wickham's trial seemed to last forever, yet I dutifully read through it, slowly turning the pages until I would inevitably run out of them.

"Can I hold you?"

I stilled. His voice was fragile, and a wave of pity made me feel unsteady.

"Yes," I nearly whispered. One hand hesitantly came to a rest against my stomach, and his other stroked my hair.

"I'm so very sorry," he murmured against my neck. "I realise what my behaviour must look like to you."

I turned another page. A woman committed suicide by jumping in front of a carriage.

"Please, Bella. I love you."

His hand left my hair and came to rest on my upper leg instead.

"I cannot condemn you to a damned existence, just so I can keep you with me for eternity."

We were both silent for a while.

I turned another page. Darcy was vomiting in the middle of the street, now.

"How uncharacteristic," I whispered in the darkness.

"Bella?"he asked, obviously trying to engage me into conversation.

"I want a family," I said instead.

His hand stilled against my thigh.

"You have a family."

I stared at the dark ink of the letters on the paper.

"I have two parents. They're not a family. They're two separate persons."

"You've got us. We're your family."

"You're all different," I murmured. "I don't belong."

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"You do. You're part of me."

I closed my eyes.

_I love you._

"Will you stay with me?" I asked him.

"Of course. I'll stay with you forever."

But this was not what I needed to know. I covered his hand on my stomach with my own.

"No," I whispered, entwining our fingers. "Just stay with me for now."

ooo000ooo

In Rome, you could smell the sun. It shone so mercilessly that my hair quickly became too hot to touch, and my body became altogether overheated.

Yet I didn't move to the shadowy sides of the streets as we wandered through them. Here, they smelled of sweating bodies, burning toast, urine, and hot pavement. With every step I took, five vampires, walking on the other side of the street, were silently entreating me to walk in the shade.

I declined.

As hot as it was, there was a semblance of space in the sun. Of freedom, of the ability to do as you like. It was only an illusion, but I relished it.

And so, as the sun burnt the top of my head, and as my feet were smouldering in their sandals, I was more comfortable than I'd been all day. We'd left Lake Como in the wee hours of the morning, and had arrived at the hotel in the centre of Rome about five hours later.

The journey had been rather unpleasant, to say the least. While Esme and Carlisle had sat in the front of the Mercedes, Edward and I had sat in the back. While I had tried to read in a desperate attempt to quench my nerves and keep my general state of mourning the impending loss of my life invisible to the others, Edward had made it virtually impossible by staring at me for most of the time. In the end, I had compromised by just staring blankly out the window and ignoring his enquiring gaze.

So here we were, wandering through the sweaty centre of Rome, trying to see some of the sights. We'd gone out at my proposal, and yet I couldn't focus on anything but the heat, and the dread, and the loneliness amidst the throngs of people.

We rounded a corner, and were confronted with a sheer mass of activity, a chaotic hustle and bustle of human beings as they pushed their way out of one shop and into another. I came to a slow halt, and from the corner of my eye saw five white forms do the same.

"Bella?"

Edward's voice was louder than usual in order to be heard above the rumble of Rome. I swallowed, making my dry throat ache, then stretched my neck, wiping it with my hand.

"Bella, please come to this side of the street."

I took a few deep breaths before walking onwards, determined to get to the end of the street. It didn't matter that I'd forgotten which tourist attraction lay there.

People bumped into me, their sticky bodies brushing against mine, yet I welcomed the contact. I heard all sorts of languages I couldn't understand - and never would - and wondered where all these people came from.

As I licked my parched lips, someone bumped into me so hard from behind that I stopped in the middle of the street. People immediately swarmed their way past me, moving on regardless of the circumstances.

Closing my eyes again, I wiped my forehead with the palm of my hand. My head was pounding.

I let out a shaky breath, my hand still cradling my forehead. Elbows nudged me, long hair fluttered against my bare arms. Whiffs of sweat and strong perfume hung heavily in the air.

Too strong.

So tired.

My heart was pounding in my ears, pain shooting through my head in the same rhythm. Faces were looking at me, scowling at me, regarding me inquisitively, angrily, fleetingly. No sound but my heartbeat existed. Raising my head, I looked straight into the sun before immediately shying away from the light that hurt my eyes.

I took a few steps, finally seeking the shade, but I couldn't find it. I turned around and all I saw was people, people everywhere. My feet travelled in a different direction, and again in a different one, until my head suddenly felt very light, and the world started swaying.

Slender, strong arms slithered around me immediately, arms covered in some soft fabric, dragging me out of the sun, my feet slipping beneath me as I tried to keep up. I sank down on the pavement. It was rather cool against my bare skin, and I distantly noted that I'd made it into the shadow.

Cold hands, golden eyes. My sunglasses were off. A breeze, cooling the sweat on my skin, making me shiver. Angry stares from above of people I didn't know.

A water bottle against my lips. Swallowing as sound came back. All of them saying things, to me and to one another, creating a big swirl of noises I couldn't make sense of.

"I'm fine," I murmured into space, feeling my hair being tied into a knot at the back of my head. Cold hands against my back.

The bottle was back. I grabbed at it, but my hand came back empty.

A man speaking to us in Italian. His shoes were black and shining, his apron was the starkest white.

"Perhaps we should, Carlisle?"

"Yes."

Alice tattering away in Italian, Edward cupping my face. I was finally able to focus on his face.

"Can you stand?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to raise you now," he muttered, grabbing my elbows and pulling me upright.

His arm was around my waist, and he entreated me to walk with him. My feet worked, and he led me into darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw we had entered a restaurant full of people, their faces turned toward me. Edward led me to a round table in the middle of the room and guided me to a chair.

I sat down, leaned back, and closed my eyes. Minutes must have gone by as I slowly came back to myself, and recovered my wits enough to thank the Lord for air conditioning.

More Italian, and a thud as a bottle of water was placed on the table. I started, and sat up, blinking sheepishly. Edward immediately opened it, filled the glass that stood in front of me, and held it out. Our fingers touched, and the water was cool and felt so good that I emptied the glass in one go. He filled the glass again, but I shook my head, and he put it down on the table.

His hand found my forehead.

"Are you feeling better, now?"

I nodded carefully, but the pounding in my head had only lessened a bit.

Fingers, coming from my left, pressed against my wrist.

"Pulse is getting back to normal," Carlisle announced.

The waiter approached our table and started handing out menus. One by one, they all politely accepted them.

"I'm sorry," I murmured once the waiter had left.

"Don't be, Bella," Carlisle immediately tried to reassure me. "We've all gotten used to being in certain situations that require us to, let's say, alter our appetites."

His voice was so friendly and sincere that I gave him a small smile, feeling nothing but misery and embarrassment.

"It's no trouble, Bella," Alice piped up, smiling tentatively at me. She opened her menu, a carefully composed look on her face, and the others followed her example. I was sure she meant to be reassuring, but she made me feel uneasy and strangely homesick.

Leaning back, I tried to relax the muscles in my belly. It wouldn't do to barf in here, not in the midst of all these people. Trying to control my breathing helped, and the world around me faded away.

"Bella?"

Edward's hand was on the edge of my seat. The waiter stood on the other side of the table, staring at me. I looked back at Edward.

"What will you have?" he asked me.

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat."

"I don't want to, now." Not with five people watching in disgust.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he broke the connection by turning and rattling to the waiter. Ordering for me.

Sheer irritation quickly turned to anger, and Jasper's eyes were on me in an instant. I didn't meet his gaze, but settled for looking over my shoulder at the other people in the restaurant. Ordinary people, who had stopped looking at me a while ago. Their chatter, which had dimmed substantially after our entrance, was slowly gaining strength again.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "Bella, how are you feeling?"

"Ask him," I muttered mulishly.

"Bella," Edward imitated his father, "you shouldn't - "

"Stop," I interrupted him. "I'm not willing to discuss this again."

"Well, I am."

"Oh are you?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. You know, it takes two to have a discussion."

The waiter saved the day, serving us our antipasti on several big plates, and placing individual, empty ones before each of us.

Edward took my plate and filled it with bruschetta, all sorts of cheeses, olives, mushrooms drenched in garlic and oil, and slices of mozzarella with slices of tomatoes.

When he placed it before me with a determined look on his face, I was done being silent.

"What do you want from me?" My voice was as cold as it had been that first day, when he came back.

Edward stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to die healthy?"

His eyes widened. "I don't want you to die at all!"

His voice was louder than it should have been, and I saw four vampires stiffen slightly.

I merely stared at him.

"You are letting me die," I told him quietly after a few seconds.

"I'm not. I'll protect you."

"You can't. You're letting me die. I am eighteen years old, Edward. Eighteen."

"Alice doesn't see you die."

"She doesn't see me live, either!"

His eyes didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. I looked away and picked at my food.

The mozzarella was good, but I barely tasted it.

"I'll change you," Edward whispered. "But not like this. Not on their terms."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"You'll change when you want to. Not because you have to."

"What if I don't want to?"

I looked up at him. The strangest expression was on his face. I hailed the waiter and ordered, in my own, broken American-Italian, a large glass of iced tea.

We were all silent until the waiter came back after a few minutes. He placed the tea in front of me, and I took a sip.

It didn't help me calm down.

A song started playing softly in the background. It didn't recognise the opening, but when Ella Fitzgerald started singing I realised I knew the song by heart.

_Every time we say goodbye, I die a little_

Softly, so softly I almost couldn't hear, I whispered the words and hummed along with the melody.

_Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little_

They were all staring at me, I knew that, but I felt distant, slightly fuzzy, like I was somehow a little way removed from the scene that was unfolding here, at a dinner table, in a restaurant in Rome.

_Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know,  
Think so little of me, they allow you to go.  
_

I took another sip of the iced tea while Ella crooned on. The headache was coming back.

"I cannot understand why you are doing this," I muttered to the table in general.

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked.

"You lost your humanity," I answered. "Did you ever stop and wonder what this would be like for someone who isn't immortal? Who doesn't live their lives knowing that they have an unlimited supply of time on their hands?"

Their blank faces told me they hadn't wondered. Not for a while now, at least.

"You lost your humanity," I repeated. "You all started out like this, didn't you? Started out like me?"

No response. Frozen faces.

_There's no love song finer,_

_But how strange the change from major to minor_

"But you've forgotten what it was like. To feel the need to make the most of it."

"Of what, dear?" Esme asked.

"Of the time you have left."

_Every time we say goodbye._

"I've never done anything. Never finished high school. Never went to college. Never married. Never got a job. I never did anything. Except fall in love. And the man I love is letting me die. And you're letting him kill me. I can't understand why."

"Bella," Carlisle softly interceded, "we promised that we wouldn't let you - "

"I'm terrified," I interrupted. "Didn't you ever stop to wonder what it must feel like to know you are about to die? To know that you are being hunted, _again_, and to suspect you won't be so lucky this time?"

Ella was silent for the moment. Some sort of flute played, joined by another one.

"I am scared out of my fucking wits here, and you are doing nothing. Nothing."

I glared at them. Their faces had started swimming a little in the space before me. Then I turned to Carlisle again.

"You left. Disappeared for months, left without a backward glance. Never said goodbye, even though I used to come to your house regularly because your son had fallen in love with me. And now you're back again, acting like nothing ever happened, and you come to Italy at a moment's notice."

I paused and drained my glass.

"I cannot understand you," I repeated. "And I cannot understand how you could ever think I would trust you enough to take your word for it. To believe you when you promise me I am not going to die."

I swallowed, finding it hard to take a breath. My hand glistened after I wiped it across my forehead.

"Love, are you all right?"

I shook my head.

"I don't feel well." My voice sounded distant. Suddenly, the table lurched toward me as if I was falling, and I held out my hand to catch myself. Yet when I knocked over my empty glass instead, I realised I was still sitting in my chair.

"Bella?"

Edward sounded frightened. I tried to stand up, but my legs wobbled underneath me, and I had to use the table for support. The sudden movement made me gasp for air, but I couldn't get enough of it.

Edward's hand grasped my elbow now. The world tilted again, and I stepped back to keep from falling. A crunching sound came from underneath my sandals, and I looked down to see what had caused it.

I stood in shards of glass, feeling stickiness against my feet. I remembered the glass that I had accidentally knocked from the table.

The glass of iced tea.

"Oh God," I muttered, staring at the shards, understanding now. So simple, after all...

My knees buckled, but Edward caught me.

Edward. Always Edward.

"Bella?"

I tried to breathe, but the world still faded around me.

"The tea," I whispered hoarsely.

I was falling, falling further still, but the hands on my back remained where they were.

"Jesus," someone gasped. A question was asked, but I hardly heard.

I was already on my way.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please don't worry, I love happy endings ;-) Let me know what you think?


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

Finally! I'm so sorry for taking such a long time to update. I can't promise it won't happen again, but please be assured that I won't leave you hanging. I WILL finish this story :-)

Big thanks to Arabella's for helping me so much, and to all you readers and reviewers. I hope you haven't forgotten this thing, but if you have, here's a short recap, updated ;-)

Our lovely couple went to Italy to resuscitate their relationship. Thing were going well until a member of the Volturi showed up and threatened them. Edward called his family, and they all showed up the following day. Edward is not willing to change Bella and respond to the Volturi's threat, but his family does not immediately agree. They take Bella to Rome, where she blacks out in a restaurant. And that's about it.

* * *

To my surprise, there was the journey to be reckoned with. While most of me surrendered to the familiarity that the advancing darkness and the fuzzy fading of worry and despair brought, parts of me remained behind. Vision had left me, movement, too, but my hearing remained, together with some faculty of touch, a sense of what was happening to my body.

Cold arms grabbed me before I hit the ground. People were shouting, a multitude of voices all swirling together until they became unrecognisable. My bare feet touched a cold, slick surface, and a hand was on my neck, fingers on my jaw, prising my mouth open. Helpless to try and stop it, a finger slipped inside, making my stomach heave immediately. I doubled over, the pain in my stomach as it emptied itself bringing me to the brink of consciousness, yet when I started to think it would never stop, it did.

My feet left the ground, and I was floating. Edward was shouting, unknown voices were jabbering nervously in Italian. The world tilted, and my body jerked on impulse, legs and arms flailing around a contracting midriff, trying to right itself.

"Vertigo."

ooo000ooo

"Vertigo?"

Jacob sounded incredulous.

I shrugged. "I suppose that's something I have."

"That's not so bad."

"Probably not."

"You look worse than that."

"You can see me?"

"Yes."

I searched in the darkness.

"Why can't I see you?"

"It's dark in here."

"Well, yes," I scoffed. "I can see that."

"Can you?"

I deliberated for a moment. "No. I can't see a thing."

"Well, let me tell you, you look horrible, Bells. It can't just be vertigo."

"Yes," I mused, "there was the tea."

"Tea?"

"I drank a glass of iced tea. They must have slipped something in."

"They?"

"Please stop asking stupid questions," I muttered irritably. "Yes, _they_. The Volturi. Or more probable, a human working for them."

"That's clever."

"Of course it's clever. They specialise in this sort of thing," I snapped. "They aren't going to be detained by an arrogant bunch of vegetarians."

"Whoa."

"They knew Edward could read minds, and that Alice could see the future, and that Carlisle had had dealings with them in the past and would be able to recognise some of them. So they must have contracted a human who was never informed about me personally, who was informed of our location as soon as we entered the restaurant. Easy to enter the kitchen, knowing which table was ours, and add some stuff to the one drink going to that table. No decision concerning me, nor my future, and no contact with any of the waiters who served us."

I waited for an answer, but none came.

"Jake?"

The darkness remained unresponsive.

"Jacob!"

Nothing.

Lying helplessly in the darkness, I waited.

ooo000ooo

As if a switch had been turned on, sound came back. It burst through the darkness like a radio that suddenly sprang to life, producing voices and strange noises that seemed to come from somewhere close, yet also very far away.

Although I could hardly make any sense of what I was hearing, blessed relief that I wasn't alone in the dark anymore washed through me. People were talking all around me, buzzing happily in a slow, uninterrupted flow, breaking the monotony of the lonely dark. Gradually, the voices swelled in volume, but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on what they were saying, they still merged into a wholly incomprehensible jumble. Moving was out of the question, too, since my body had become a concept rather than a part of myself, a thought that was left behind in another place and time altogether.

"Jacob," I called out into the darkness. To my surprise, he responded immediately.

"Yeah?" he grumbled.

"I've got a question."

A pause.

"I'm waiting."

"Jake, how come I can talk to you while I've lost my body?"

"You lost your body?"

"I can't feel it. Can't move so much as my little finger."

"So?"

"So how come I can talk to you?"

"We're in your head, Bells. You're talking to me inside your head."

"But I can hear my voice."

"Can you? You're not moving your lips, Bella. You're not really talking."

"How can you see my lips? It's as dark as death around here."

"It's not dark here. We're in a hospital room, and you're lying in a bed, not moving."

"We are?" I could hardly believe it. Then again, I should have known that this was my current situation. Edward would hardly leave me in the dark like this, not after I'd been poisoned. He'd do everything he could to make sure that...

What? That I'd live? I was dying, somehow I knew that for sure. And I certainly wasn't changing. I had a feeling that if I was, there'd be no mistaking about it. There'd be no escape from the pain, and here I was, a weightless, feeling-less, body-less _something_ drifting in darkness.

"So what is this?"

"What do you think this is?"

I thought about it.

"It's not that difficult," Jacob prompted.

"Coma," I muttered.

Jacob hummed his approval, and disappeared again.

ooo000ooo

"Bella?" Edward's voice. "Bella, love? Open your eyes, dear."

I did. Compared to how dreary the dark had been, the light was overwhelming now. I took a deep breath, but the air wouldn't come, and I gasped, choking at the thing that was blocking my airway.

"It's the ventilator, love. Try not to breathe."

My eyes opened wider, searching for his face in the midst of all this brightness. Was he crazy? I needed air, I needed to breathe. I kept struggling until my lungs were burning and I gave up in exhaustion. Then, air swirled down my throat, and my sight returned.

Edward was smiling, brushing the hair from my face.

"There," he said gently. "You're okay now."

I blinked at the sheer brilliance of his skin, the depth of his eyes, the way his lips curled when he smiled at me like that. And somehow I knew.

This wasn't real. And he was just as much a part of my own thought processes as Jacob was.

I swallowed, and choked again, my chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch my breath. Tears trickled over my check, blurring my vision of him as he tried to wipe them away.

"Ssh," he soothed me. "You need to stop trying to breathe, love. Air will come easier then."

But in my panic, I couldn't stop. My back arched off the bed, arms and legs flailing as I tried to pull the tube out myself. Catching both my wrists in his hand, Edward stopped me.

"Bella, stop. I need you to stop breathing."

I shook my head, the choking gasps I was emitting becoming louder and louder. The light was becoming less and less bright, Edward's skin stopped sparkling, growing dim in the darkening room. His eyes stopped shining, turning from liquid gold to a diffuse, brooding black, his smile becoming a grimace.

"Stop breathing," he urged, locking my head between his hands, forcing me to look at his awful eyes. My straining muscles relaxed, and all the will I had left to fight seeped out of me. Hope was gone. "Stop," he repeated, and my eyes closed. Through the haze, I heard his last words. "It'll all be easier when you do."

I stopped. And sank deeper.

ooo000ooo

A soft 'click'. An opening zipper and a slight creak. Lips on my cheek.

"Good morning, Bella," Jasper greeted. "Good to see you're still going strong. You gave me a scare."

Pressure on my hand for the shortest moment, then another creak.

"I'm just going to continue, all right?"

Jasper cleared his throat.

"They say that a person's hearing is often the last thing to go. So I'll just keep going." The rustling of pages. "I wouldn't mind if you didn't hear me. I like your company. But the uncertainty - " Jasper broke off.

A cold hand on my cheek.

"Please, Bella. If you're still in there, let me know. Any way you wish. Feel something. Anything. Just let me know that there still is a piece of you left."

I tried to comply, but my body was a foreign, absent piece of my former self that I couldn't really remember ever having possessed, and my mind was floating, empty.

I was nothing.

Jasper started reading to me, but the story had the flighty substance of a forgotten dream.

ooo000ooo

Again, I was alone in the dark.

Jacob wouldn't come. There were no voices, no silver sounds to distract me from what I was: an empty, wretched, dying scrap of thought with a body that lay uselessly on something unyielding.

A bang, and a blinding flash as the world around me flooded with light. I screwed my eyes shut, and gave a soft groan. My head throbbed, and my stomach had spread an all-consuming pain through the rest of my body, right down to my toes.

"You're coming back."

I started, and another flash of agony shot through me as my stomach contracted. I whimpered, and tried to see who was here with me. Squinting against the overhead lights, a flash of blond hair shimmered strangely.

My legs flailed, trying to relieve some of the horrible misery that had taken hold of me. Head lolling sideways, I recognised the wooden floor on which I lay almost immediately.

"Oh," I groaned, wishing the pain would disappear, or, if that was impossible, that I would disappear instead.

"Why do you come here?" Carlisle asked.

I could feel him standing over me.

"I don't," I muttered between gasps. "Nothing's real, here."

"But it's your imagination. Your imagination's real."

I let it go, hardly wanting to argue with him here. As I peeped up at him from below, lying at his feet, he seemed like an otherworldly creature more than ever. He smiled as my body twitched strangely.

"Why do you come here? Lying on a stage?" Carlisle's eyes searched mine.

"Why are you here?" I groaned. "I don't want you here."

Carlisle shrugged, the image of indifference.

"You called me here. So here I am. Watching you scramble and squirm."

I shook my head wildly, squinting through the pain. "You're not him. As much as I'd like to be able to hate you for the things you did to me," I paused to take a few shallow breaths, "you'd never stand over me like this. Not helping me."

"Watching you find your body. Watching you wake up."

"Wake up to what?"

Carlisle sighed wearily, and eyed me speculatively.

"That's up to you."

"What?" I spluttered, then started coughing heavily, making my body twist on the wooden floor.

Carlisle bent down, and, grabbing me underneath my arms, pulled me up straight.

"You stand on your own two feet now, Bells," Carlisle said strictly, using Charlie's voice. I stared at him, or them, in amazement.

His arms slid down to my elbows, over my lower arms, and, taking my hands in his only briefly, let go.

"The pain's gone," I murmured demurely, feeling strangely solemn right at that moment.

"Just for the moment, yes."

My legs weren't accustomed to having any weight on them, but before my knees could buckle, Carlisle gripped my elbow and, with a surprisingly strong hold, slowly turned us around.

The mass of red fluttered slightly.

"Is this goodbye?"

Carlisle nodded, and made us halt just at a few inches' distance from the curtain.

"Did you ever go beyond?" he asked, using his own voice, now.

"No," I whispered, and his eyes met mine in silent communication.

"I'm very sorry," he breathed, his face softening.

"So am I." My voice was just as soft, but we knew we understood each other perfectly. "Do you know where I'll go?"

"It's up to you." Carlisle slowly released me, and took a step back, his hands clasping each other in solemn appraisal.

My gaze had followed him over my shoulder, but now I faced forward again, slowly extending my hand. The velvet was surprisingly rough and heavy against my fingers, and it cost me some strength to part it so I could slip through. Letting go, it took me no time at all to recognise where I was.

ooo000ooo

The ground was rough against my naked feet, and although the sand and gravel caused me pain, I shuffled towards the part where it would end.

The precipice.

My toes found the edge, and I cautiously leaned forward so that I could peer down. The same grey rocks and black, swirling mass of water greeted me. The same cold, harsh wind blew against my face and slapped my hair against my neck. Nothing had changed here, yet I knew that the reason why everything felt so different was because the change had happened in _me_.

This place had hosted what I had once thought to be a final act of desperation, yet it had brought me riches I'd never dreamed about, a kind of joy I still found indescribable. It had brought me Edward, it had induced him to come back to me, and after all that he'd done, and didn't do, and after all that had happened, my love for him hadn't lessened. It had grown, rather, into something more mature, because _I_ had become more mature.

And I wouldn't be the one to throw it away. Edward might not want me to change, might not love me enough to hold on, and yet he should have to be the one to let go first. I'd learned that loving him was the most important thing to me, even if it shouldn't be, and I would cherish that love, even if he wouldn't.

Rain started to fall, like I knew it would, and I was cold, and alone, and the decision had already been made.

I jumped.

ooo000ooo

For an indefinite amount of time, my body was suspended in mid-air. I floated strangely, my chest heaving upwards, my legs still on the mattress, my arms somewhere in between. I had no control over it, yet, finally, I could feel it was there. Belonging to _me_.

My eyes opened, and I saw grey and white. Tiny specks in the plates that covered the ceiling. A ventilation grate.

Pain. Everywhere, of every kind. Taking over my mind, which had been so blissfully free from it before.

Time started running again. Sound blasted in my eardrums, the sudden onslaught making me start. Voices, yelling, shouting all sorts of things I couldn't understand, swirling and swishing noises, overwhelming me.

My shoulders hit something hard, my back did, too, and hands were touching me everywhere. The shouting increased when I tried to breathe, and found that I couldn't. I was choking, fighting against the intrusion of an alien thing inside my mouth, inside my throat. Still, the hands kept touching me, exposing me to the raw air I felt brushing against my skin in amazing volumes.

Cold. I was so cold. My struggle against the thing couldn't prevent that. Nausea overtook me as it moved, upwards, ever upwards, scratching places I'd never been aware of, deep inside me. Hands on my jaw, and gagging as the thing exited my mouth, allowing me to draw breaths in huge gulps, tears streaming from my eyes. I tried to look at it, but the thing was swiftly removed from my field of vision, and I found myself unable to lift, or even move, my head.

I coughed, and shied away from the pain, shrinking in on myself. Hands gripped my shoulders, and turned me over, supporting my back, warm skin prickling me. My head came to rest sideways on the pillow, and my eyes numbly met Edward's.

Their expression told me that this was real, that this wasn't happening in my head. Their expression was such as I could never have come up with on my own.

Edward reached forward, achingly slow, and took my hand in his, so softly I hardly felt it. Something hard chafed against the raw skin on my shoulders, and I was laid on my back again. My cheek remained pressed against the pillow, and it allowed me to keep looking at Edward, the only one I recognised amidst the chaos of unfamiliar hands and faces. The one constant in my life.

"Hi," he whispered. I wanted to say 'hi', too, but taking the breath to form the words hurt so much that my courage failed me.

Edward looked away, past my bed. "Can't they give her something for that?"

Italian voices filled the room in answer. I took a wheezing breath, trying to quell my fear and frustration. Edward saw.

"You're okay," he whispered to me. He leaned further forward and stroked the top of my head with his free hand, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're in a hospital in Rome. You've been in a coma for the past few days. Please don't try to speak just yet. They just removed the tube that has helped you breathe. It will hurt for while."

A tear trickled over my cheek, but he caught it before it could disappear into the soft down of the pillow. The room darkened at his touch, and only when my eyes snapped open in alarm did I realise that they had closed of their own accord.

His lips against my skin. Chilly breath in my ear.

"It's okay. You can sleep. You won't be alone. I'll be here."

The darkness grew again, and this time I let it happen.

"Sleep now." Soft as a sigh.

And then even softer, already in my dream?

"Keep your heart beating."

ooo000ooo

Fingers on my lips. Stroking. Sticky.

I came back into the world. The pain was less than before, but still. My stomach felt like it had been ripped in halves.

"Sorry," Alice whispered, smiling at me in such an uncertain way. "I didn't mean to wake you." My gaze drifted down to her hands. "It's Vaseline. Your lips were so dry, and it just looked so uncomfortable."

Huh. I had never even noticed my lips amidst all the spots on my body I _was_ feeling. But perhaps it _would_ help. I tried to smile, and slowly moved my head to the side. Edward was there, like he'd promised. I tried again, and this time the corners of my mouth lifted just the slightest bit. His did the same.

"It's good to see your eyes again," he said softly, though louder than before. I turned my head to the other side, trying hard not to wince, and saw that except for Alice, the room was empty. I looked at Edward again, and the movement left me exhausted.

"You're stabilizing," he answered the question that must have shown on my face. "Your doctor just left, and the rest cleared out a while ago."

I tried to hold my hand out for him, but all I managed was a slight twitch. He took hold of it all the same, and raised it, carefully, to cup his cheek. A small shiver ran through me at the feel of his cold, hard, and yet strangely alive skin. It was _Edward_, and I was finally touching him again. His eyes closed and his head tilted sideways, leaning into my touch.

I swallowed, and croaked.

"What happened?"

Edward's eyes were hard when they opened.

"Your tea," he said flatly. "I'd call it a cliché if it hadn't nearly, _very_ nearly, cost you your life."

"But after?"

Edward stood up and sat down on the edge of my bed. His hand folded around my neck, his thumb stroking the skin.

"You lost consciousness in the restaurant. We brought you here. You were in a coma when we arrived."

I waited. That couldn't have been all.

"And?" I whispered, when nothing more came.

"Carlisle was able to determine what they'd given you. You stopped - " Edward broke off, his whole body folding in upon itself as his shoulders slumped.

"You stopped breathing," he croaked, covering his face with his hand. "And grew weaker. Carlisle did everything he could think of." He met my gaze. "But, after a few more hours, your heart still stopped."

I frowned.

"You died," Edward whispered. "Even if just for a minute. I saw you, lying in this bed, and your heart wasn't beating. You were here, dead."

"No," I rasped.

Edward groaned, and gave me a heartbroken smile.

"You came back to me. They were still holding the paddles when the beats returned. You came back to me."

Tears slid over his fingers.

ooo000ooo

Dazed, hazy moments of unfamiliar faces speaking to me, telling me how I was doing. More hands touching me, asking me how I felt in broken English, and me rasping back just as brokenly. Edward beside me all the while.

They asked me to move my arms, or my legs, and I found that I was too weak to manage more than an inch or so. They told me it would take time.

My stomach and everything else thereabout hurt. It felt as if something had been gnawing at me from the inside and had only just stopped. As I slowly gathered my thoughts, I supposed that must have been exactly what had happened.

The pain was relieved by strange dreams of half-forgotten memories, places and times before I'd met Edward. I always woke with my heart racing, and Edward holding my hand to calm me down.

Edward.

He looked terrible, as far as he was capable of that. He never left my bedside, and although Alice frequently brought him new clothes, it didn't seem to influence his rumpled appearance. It worried me, but he never allowed me to even try and say the word 'hunt'.

His family members came to visit me one by one, staying only a few minutes at a time. I was grateful, because apart from the pain, my exhaustion had reached such a level that I fell asleep immediately after they closed the door behind them.

Days might have passed, or just a few hours, but time stretched endlessly and unimportantly. All I really knew was that I was breathing, my heart was beating, and Edward was waiting for me to open my eyes. When I finally did, he was sitting at the edge of my bed, a luminescent shadow in the darkness of the room, and he was clasping my hand in both of his.

"Hello," he whispered.

I twitched my hand in his.

"You're past the worst of it, now," he muttered quietly, searching my eyes for any reaction.

I started to reply, wanting to ask him if I was going to survive this, but my throat was so dry and raw that I immediately started coughing and choking. He stood up, watching helplessly as my body heaved, the agony in his eyes going up a notch at every twitch. When it had passed, and I lay limply on the mattress, he reached for a jug on the cabinet behind him, and sat back down.

A plastic straw touched my lips.

"Some water," he said in a low voice.

My lips parted, and the water soon trickled down my throat, sending shivers of relief all through my spine. When I'd had a few sips, my eyes slid closed again, and I licked my flaking lips, gathering courage for what I was about to do, for saying what I had been trying to say every since I had regained at least part of my consciousness.

"I understand," I croaked.

His caress of my cheek was as light as a gust of wind, and his lips pressed against my forehead before they whispered words in my ear.

"What do you understand?"

I was getting out of breath already, and it took me a few wheezing minutes before I could reply.

"Why you did it," I croaked, and his lips froze where they'd been worshipping my neck. "Why you left," I elaborated. "Why you don't want me to be like you. I understand now."

He gave the softest moan, and his hands encircled my neck, his thumbs sliding along my jaw. I opened my eyes, and saw in his that he had heard me, finally.

"I would have done the same," I murmured. "I would have done the same if I could bear it. Would have made the same mistake."

"No," he groaned, and dropped his head, hid his face in the crevice between my shoulders and my neck. I was so tired, now, but I finally found that I was able to lift my hand. My fingers carefully ruffled through his golden hair, which was still so unbelievably soft, and I realised how much I had missed him, missed touching him. Feeling his hair, his skin, his breath against me.

"You loved me enough to leave," I murmured, my own words hurting me. "I remember you told me that, once. But I also told you that I loved you enough to do the same. You never believed that."

I turned sideways and kissed the side of his head, tears falling fast now.

"If our roles had been reversed, I would have done the same. I would have tried to save you, and I would have tried to save your soul if I believed that I didn't have one. I would have made the same mistake."

I was wheezing again, and the world was slowly melting away, until I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. My hands hung limply by my side, much like when I had woken up the first time, and I felt like a useless, dead doll. His arms hugged me close, and he supported my head with his hand so our eyes were on a level. The sudden movement was dizzying, but we looked at each other squarely, no longer any disguises between us. There was nothing more to me than what he held in his arms, and his embrace told me there was nothing more to him, either.

My head rested heavily against his hand. He kissed my temple.

"I have killed you," he whispered. "I have made you die a slow and painful death, time and time again. I have betrayed you, and tried in vain to protect you. I have patronised you, and ignored you, and held you down. I have hurt you more than life could bear, more than any apology, any way of saying sorry could redeem. But it has taken your heart to stop beating, it has taken you to come back to me from beyond the place where I could never follow, for me to finally believe that your love for me would have enabled you to do the same to me."

I broke down, and cried out loud while he pulled me close, heaving sobs and coughs against his neck.

"I _am_ so very, very sorry, but the words could never be enough. I do know that."

"No," I whispered between the sobs. "Please don't say that. I love you, and you love me just as much. Why can't that be enough?"

"It is," he murmured, nearly too soft to hear. "Please don't worry. It _is_. I love you. Please don't cry."

I tried not to, and after a while managed to do nothing more but sniffle now and then.

"Am I really past the worst of it, now?" I asked him after a few more moments, kissing his temple again.

He nodded.

"You were lingering near the edge for quite a while, but now, your stats are up, your heartbeat's stronger, more stable." His arms tightened around me.

"Will I survive?"

He froze and sat up straighter, still supporting my head, enabling me to look at him.

"Yes." Then, in a darker voice, "This time."

"Oh," I breathed. Of course. "They'll try again."

Edward's silence was enough affirmation.

"You think I'll die next time?"

He closed his eyes.

"Edward?"

"Please don't make me answer that."

"Oh," I said again. "I see."

His eyes snapped to mine.

"Do you?" he asked me, a frantic touch to his voice.

I frowned, searching his eyes. "What?"

"_Do _you see? It's a vile thing to propose, after the agony I've put you through, Bella."

His words puzzled me, and my face crumpled.

"Please speak plainly," I muttered, afraid of what his words might mean.

"I can't keep you safe. Not like this. I lost you, even if just for a minute. I would move heaven and earth not to lose you again."

I took a deep breath and looked down, trying to control the nerves that were coursing through me, now.

"And hell?" I asked quietly after a few seconds, searching his eyes.

"I don't believe that anymore." He smiled sadly. "But if you did, I would move hell as well, yes."

"You know I believe you have a soul."

"Yes. And so do I, now."

I stared at him.

"What happened?"

"You died."

"I came back."

"Yes. And the pain I felt at losing you, the purest of creatures, couldn't possibly be the pain of the soulless monster I believed myself to be."

"No." I shook my head as much as I could manage. "I'm not an angel, Edward. I'm a naive young girl who has had to learn a few valuable lessons about the role she allows herself to play, and who fell in love with a boy perhaps not entirely suitable for her. I saw you as a god, Edward, and treated you, and myself, accordingly. I made mistakes, and I'm not an angel, and you're the man I love."

We gazed at each other for a while, our thoughts untranslatable into words.

"Say yes," he whispered then.

Tears clouded my vision, but I did my best to keep calm.

"You'll have to ask me, first." My voice was hoarse.

"Be with me forever, Bella."

I smiled through the tears.

"Yes."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

Hello again :-) Happy Easter! After an indecent amount of time - for which I heartily apologize to all of you - I've finally managed to finish the next chapter. I'm sorry I took so long! This chapter is also, I have to inform you, the last chapter of this story. I've spent a long time thinking about it, but this is everything I can come up with, and I hope you like it even without proper warning. Please let me know whether or not you do :-D

I have one last chance to say it, so here goes: HUGE THANKS TO ALL OF YOU FOR READING AND/OR REVIEWING - IT'S BEEN ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS! I've been flummoxed by your lovely reviews and interpretations, and writing this has been an experience I never wanted to miss out on. Thank you.

Also, enormous amounts of gratitude go to **Arabella's**, who's helped me finish a rather difficult last chapter. It's been wonderful to have been in contact with you, and I hope we can keep it up :-)

Finally, here's a short recap:

Our lovely couple went to Italy to resuscitate their relationship. Thing were going well until a member of the Volturi showed up and threatened them. Edward called his family, and they all showed up the following day. Edward is not willing to change Bella and respond to the Volturi's threat, but his family does not immediately agree. They take Bella to Rome, where she blacks out in a restaurant after having been poisoned. She survives, but barely, and Edward asks Bella if he can change her now. She says yes.

* * *

_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way _

"_A Tale of Two Cities" – Charles Dickens_

The world righted itself when she said yes. I'd envisioned different circumstances, longer speeches, smiling faces, happy families, but all it took was a 'yes', and tears, a plethora of machines, a beating heart.

That was all. It was enough, far more than I deserved, less than was her due.

There was nothing left to say, no apology was owed, no further explanations to be given. Life and death merged in that moment, and depravity, regrets, guilt, and castigations were left out of the equation. This was all. No more, and we would go, _could _go, no further.

I kissed her eyelids, and she smiled while she slept.

ooo000ooo

Plans. Schemes and inconsistencies that had to be taken care of. Regulated. Grief for the past and joy for the future instantaneously put building pressure on my spine, but I managed not to bend under the weight of regret and happiness. That should, and would, come later, when she was safe, and dead, and could be with me forever.

Identities proved fluid, streaming away that very day, and washing back with the persistent tide the next. Names were thought of, passports produced, and Bella was to die in a few days, killed on impact somewhere in the outskirts of Rome. Edward was to die with her.

Bella slept soundly, her heart beating steadily. Edward watched, and waited.

ooo000ooo

On the third day, she woke up at dawn. Her smile dispelled the images of her dead face from my mind.

"Today?" she inquired softly, roughly, apprehension dancing at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," I said from my customary place in the white plastic chair at her side. "If you're sure."

"I am." She licked her lips and blinked sluggishly, taking longer than usual, the drugs clouding her eyes. "Are you?"

"Yes. Of course." The clock ticked obtrusively from where it hung above the door, and I glanced at it swiftly. "Your heart's stronger, now."

She nodded. "Strong enough?"

Our eyes met.

"Carlisle believes so. Enough to make the journey."

"And the rest?"

"That, too. The venom works wonders," I added sardonically.

She nodded again, exhaustion clouding her features. I thought of Carlisle, and the centuries of experience that had allowed him to keep her with me.

"Would you do something for me?" she murmured softly, her eyes closed.

"Naturally." I sat up straighter, trying not to become distracted by the way paper skin, bluish hollows, protruding bones, the imagined smell of ammonia seemed to become more pronounced whenever she lay still and quiet.

"Would you get my phone, and text Charlie for me?"

I inclined my head. There was nothing left to feel.

"What do you want it to say?"

She was silent for so long, and breathed so slowly, that she appeared asleep if not for her insistent heartbeat.

"Dear Dad," she finally whispered. "Off to Naples. Amazing time in Rome, feeling better now."

She paused. I couldn't breathe when she looked at me.

"Very happy. Love you. Bella."

ooo000ooo

Alice and Jasper left two hours later, taking the keys from the black Mercedes that Bella and I had driven around in during the past few weeks. She was asleep at the time, and they didn't have the heart to wake her and say goodbye. They would come back while she changed, before she woke up one final time.

An unexpected bend in the road, a sturdy tree trunk, and a full tank of gasoline to provoke the spark and ensure the obliteration of any incriminating evidence. A blaze that took in less than a second, a bribe, and some lies, and Edward and Bella were no more.

I almost wished it could have been harder, that it might have taken longer, more of an effort, to erase the brilliancy of Bella Swan's fragile existence. But this was all there was to it. Two lives cut tragically short, and aggrieved father, a flustered mother, and two empty coffins to harbour the delusion.

Its simplicity was horrifying.

ooo000ooo

When the doctors had left for the night, and the nurses weren't scheduled to reappear for another two hours, I kissed her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, greyish veins trickling just beneath her skin, and clouded eyes peeked up at me.

"Is it dark yet?" she asked groggily, smelling of painkillers and alcohol, lying perfectly still underneath the covers, her gaze drifting to the window on the far side of the room.

"Nearly," I answered, studying her pale, thin face. "Are you scared?"

She regarded me silently for a moment. Licked her lips.

"Yes," she admitted finally. Her voice was even.

I took her hand.

"Would it still mean anything if I promised you that I'll keep you safe?"

She gave me a small smile.

"Yes."

I silently thanked whatever deity still listened to me, and rubbed my face with my free hand.

"You should hunt."

"Not now," I muttered, feeling inexplicably tired. "I'll wait for you. We'll go together in three days."

Another small smile came my way, tinged with anxiety. I carefully squeezed her hand as I asked the next question.

"Would it still mean anything if I told you that... if you'll have me... whatever I am, whatever is left of me, I'll be yours forever?"

Her smile grew bigger than any of the others, and the answer she gave me was the same.

ooo000ooo

She was even lighter than before. Her head rested against my chest, a small bud of warmth where my heart would have been beating, if I could have remembered how it felt. Her face was pale against the blurry streetlights of Rome. I'd expected her to look away, to bury her face in my chest, but as soon as we'd landed she peeked out from under the layers of fabric she was swaddled in, her eyes bright and glistening in the night, taking in everything that she could as I ran.

She was saying goodbye.

I decided to let her do so in silence, and turned my attention to the task of remaining unseen as we headed for the countryside. Her heartbeat drummed soft but steady in my ears.

It took no time at all to leave Rome behind, and in just under an hour, populated areas began growing sparse, and the air started smelling of air again. Cypresses watched our silent flight without dismay, and the dark sky gradually began to lighten, though it was probably too early for her to notice. When the ground started strongly sloping upwards, she turned her head and looked up at me.

"Nearly there?"

"Yes. Less than an hour to go. How do you feel?"

She shrugged slightly.

"Good enough, I guess."

"You're not cold?"

"No." Her breath was hot against my shirt, warming the cold skin beneath. "The weather's mild."

"Yes, I suppose so."

She closed her eyes, burrowed her face against my shirt.

"You know, I figured it out. I think."

I glanced at the top of her head, her hair wonderfully mussed.

"Figured what out?"

"Why you could hear my dreams."

I faltered slightly, and scrambled for something to say.

"Oh?"

"I thought of the times it happened. How I felt. What had happened before," she continued hesitantly, then fell silent.

"And?" I prompted, anxiously.

She shifted in my arms, and looked at me.

"I think it's to do with hope," she said quietly. "I think I'd given up hope at those times. When you could hear me."

My mind ran through those instances like they'd been collected in a catalogue, each one an example of how right she might be, would be, was.

"Oh God," I heard myself say. "Bella - "

"Wait," she interrupted. "Just wait. You didn't hear the last of my dreams, did you? After I'd woken up in the hospital?"

"No," I agreed. "No."

She again pressed her face against my shirt, and closed her eyes, letting the silence elongate for a while before continuing.

"After everything that's happened, perhaps we should look at what's still to come, and realize that, after all, maybe there is still hope."

Warmth filled me, but it had nothing to do with her breathing. "Yes," I whispered, listening to her slowing heartbeat as she gradually drifted off.

"Maybe there is still hope," I repeated, softly, knowing there was nothing else to say.

ooo000ooo

The shed was small, sparsely furnished, and smelled strongly of smoked meat, even though it was obvious no one had been here in at least two years.

"How did Alice and Jasper find this?" Her voice was growing rougher by the minute, and I carefully laid her down on the bare mattress in the far corner of the room.

"They didn't. Rosalie and Emmet told me about this place. They came across it a few years ago, while passing through."

Her skin looked grey against the grimy greasiness of the mattress.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. Her eyes followed me as I shut the door and turned back to face her.

"For what?"

"The place is horrible. I'm sorry we couldn't have gone somewhere slightly more decent."

"It's all right."

"This was the only secluded spot we could find within walking distance," I continued, feeling as if I should account for my actions.

"Running distance, you mean."

I grinned, too, though nothing about our conversation was all that funny.

"Yes. Fair enough." I sat down next to her. Her eyes held mine, questioning me.

A gust of wind drifted through the cracked windows, twirling dirt and dust around the room. She was thin, and pale, and dying, and she was lovelier than ever.

"We shouldn't wait too long," I finally brought out. She simply nodded, and shifted laboriously to lie on her side, folding her hands underneath her head as if preparing for sleep. I brushed a few strands of hair from her face, and kept my hand moulded around cheek.

"You remember everything we discussed?"

She turned her head and kissed the inside of my palm, closed her eyes.

"Yes."

"You're not in any pain?"

"No. They doped me up just before you came." Her voice was filled with languid peace.

"So now?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

I leaned forward.

"Edward?"

A pause.

"Yes?"

"Remember when you left?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I believed you."

Another gust of wind through broken glass.

"So am I."

"I know better now, though."

"So do I. I'll never leave you again."

"I know that. I do."

I kissed her hair, smelling its unchanged fragrance for the last time.

"Good."

She turned her head towards me, and her lips touched mine, soft and dry as moths' wings.

"Keep your heart beating, please," I whispered against her skin. "Keep breathing. For me."

"Yes," she promised without opening her eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

I kissed her forehead, her temple, cheekbones, pale veins stroking her eyelids, the sharp angle of her jaw.

Teeth tore through skin, wind tore through cracks, and we had everything before us, and we had nothing before us.

There was nothing left to say. There was no romance, no candlelight, no bathtubs filled with foaming bubbles, no nights filled with acts of passion. That would come later. This wasn't the time – there was no time. Time lay behind us, and directly in front of us, but in these moments, in these endless days of squirming pain and last regrets and deep, swelling moments of unbounded joy, there was no time.

We'd had an age of foolishness, an epoch of incredulity, a season of darkness. But I silently promised that when Bella woke, when her heart stopped beating and she would be whole again, we would have an age of wisdom, an epoch of belief, a season of light before us.


End file.
